


Waking Up in Vegas

by thatcrazywriterley



Category: Dean Ambrose - Fandom, Monday Night RAW, WWE
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Smut, so full of tropes it isn't funny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 41,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazywriterley/pseuds/thatcrazywriterley
Summary: A drunken night of celebration in Las Vegas leads to a veritable mess for Dean Ambrose when he realizes he’s not only confessed a long-held secret, but he’s done something that could shatter his friendship with Seth Rollins forever. ANGST. FLUFF. SMUT.





	1. Prologue: You Gotta Help Me Out

Prologue: You Gotta Help Me Out

_(Gif not mine, hosted on Gifimage.net)_

 

            As soon as Dean walked through the curtain into gorilla, I knew something was a little off with his elbow. He was holding it against his chest, looking like he didn’t want to move it. But I couldn’t ignore the grin on his face as he clutched one of the Tag Team titles in his other hand. His Shield brother, Seth Rollins, came hooting and hollering in right behind him, almost oblivious to the pain clear on Dean’s face.

            Ignoring the idiot that Seth could sometimes be, I rushed over to Dean. I gave him a brief smile and muttered congratulations before I got down to business. “Where does it hurt?”

            He pushed his belt into his partner’s hands and used his finger to draw a circle around the outside of his forearm just below his elbow. Relief rushed through me. It wasn’t his surgically repaired triceps tendon.

            “Alright,” I said softly, giving him a gentle touch on the shoulder. “Come on back to my office, and let me see what I can do for you.”

            I lead the way down the hallway to the trainer’s room. It wasn’t the one they used for promos or backstage segments. This was the real deal. It was as close to a mobile orthopedic clinic as you could get, and that was saying something. Dean slipped around me and pushed the door open, holding it there with his foot.

            “Always the gentleman, Ambrose,” I teased as I carefully slipped by him.

            Once inside, he sat down on the padded trainer’s table. The heels of his boots tapped nervously against the frame, a metallic echo running through the room. As I pulled my hair up into a ponytail to get it out of the way for the examination, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Since coming back to Raw, his close-cut hair had grown back out. It wasn’t quite the grungy mop that it had once been, but it was reminiscent of his old look. Messy strawberry blond locks that looked as if they hadn’t seen a shower in a week. His face wasn’t pinched in pain like it had been the night Samoa Joe had ruptured his triceps, so I took that as a good sign.

            I rubbed my hands together, trying to ensure my fingers were warm when I finally started the examination. “Hold still as much as possible, Dean. And let me know if anything I do causes discomfort.”

            He nodded, his jaw set as if he was clenching his teeth. I rolled my eyes. It was a common thing with the guys on the roster. They acted like total badasses on TV, but most of them were terrible softies once they got backstage. Some of them just didn’t want you to know it. Dean was one of those guys.

            “Don’t be an ass, Ambrose. If it hurts, tell me.”

            A grunt was all I got in acknowledgement. I rolled my eyes and got started. My fingers gently probed the area he’d indicated. Gently, I pressed down on the muscle and fibrous tissue that connected to the bone of the elbow, dug my fingers into the little hollow on either side of it. When nothing I did there seemed to cause Dean pain, I started palpating further down on his forearm.  

            Two inches down from his elbow, I pressed on a knot that made him jerk, kicking the table frame with a loud thud. “Fuck!” he shouted, trying to wriggle away.

            One corner of my mouth turned up. “Found it,” I said nonchalantly. I held on to his forearm firmly, pushing the knot with my fingers and thumbs. My mind raced through every possible cause, diagnosis, treatment option, recommendation—everything that I had learned in my years as an athletic trainer for the WWE.

            I walked my fingers up the muscles of his forearm back to his elbow, pressing firmly as I went. Crossing over his elbow, I felt along the top of his arm to his brachialis, biceps, and deltoid. I didn’t feel anything unusual, so I moved around the back of his arm. I started at bony protrusion of his elbow and repeated the action up his triceps. I felt a little sick when I skimmed over the smooth scar from his surgery. That had probably been the worst night I’d ever had working for the company. It broke my heart to see him sidelined like that—and everything that happened afterward.

            “So, here’s what we got,” I said, stepping back and putting my hands on my hips. The girls called it my _Wonder Woman_ pose. The guys called it _mom mode_. “Nothing feels or seems torn or damaged in any way. But you’ve got a nice little knot under a couple tendons on your forearm. It’s what’s called a trigger point. Trigger ‘cause it hurts like hell, point because it points somewhere else. And that specific point is your triceps. It’s just a little stressed and needs a break for a day or two. No lifting or straining with it of any kind.”

            “That’s good news and all, Mera, but it still fucking hurts,” he said, his voice a little gruff.

            I huffed. “I can make work the knot out, but it’s going to hurt more before it hurts less.”

            Dean curled his lip, looked as if he were weighing his options. He grunted and jerked his chin toward his arm. “More pain now, less later, thanks.”

            “Just remember, you asked for this,” I said as I reached for a lotion that I kept on hand for pain massages.

            I could hear Rollins chuckling in the hallway as Dean howled and cursed for the first few minutes.

 

* * *

 

            A double check of the room ensured that nothing had been left behind. The crew usually packed up the trainer’s room last—just in case any of the superstars needed to be seen at the end of the night. I grabbed my personal luggage and the bag I kept with me before slipping out into the emptying backstage area. A couple of the guys who had finished matches at the end of the show were straggling back, heading for showers and their rental cars. I said pleasant goodbyes to them and headed for my own rental in the garage.

            “Hey, Mera!” I turned at the sound of my name. Dean walked over, dragging his suitcase behind him. “A couple of us are going out for some drinks. Wanna come?”

            “Uh huh. ‘A couple drinks’ my ass, Ambrose. You’re all going to try to act like high rollers at a casino.”

            The smirk that flashed over his mouth let me know I was right. “Okay, possibly, but drinks first. And probably some food to go with it. You’ve got to be hungry.”

            I protested, Dean had some counter. I pled exhaustion, Dean promised we wouldn’t be out long. After a few minutes of it, I threw up my hands. “If it will shut you up, fine. Let me drop my stuff off at the hotel, and I’ll take an Uber to meet you there.”

            He grinned and walked off.

            I couldn’t help but grin at his retreating form. It really was good to have him back.

 

* * *

 

            “Another round of shots,” Drew said to the waitress standing at the end of our table. The girl grinned, a little blush creeping up over her cheeks as she looked at him.

I was squished in between Dean and the giant Scotsman across the table from Roman. It was hard not to roll my eyes. Drew certainly knew how to turn on the charm when it suited him. He was one of those guys that was a badass on _and_ off screen. He had a soft side in there somewhere… but it was really hard to find.

“Last one for me,” I said, knowing my words were a little slurred. I never considered myself a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but some of these guys—and girls—could drink me under the table and still be able to do what they did in the ring without difficulty. “Gonna have a hangover like hell tomorrow.”

I felt a hand on my back, just between my shoulder blades. “I’ll make sure you get back to the hotel.” Seconds ticked by before I realized it was Dean.

           


	2. Chapter 1: It's All a Blur Last Night

Chapter 1: It’s All a Blur Last Night

_(GIF owned by dean-ambroselover on Tumblr)_

_Mera, Morning, 10:00 AM_

            I woke up with a pounding headache. It felt like the entire payroll of the New York construction union was pounding away in my skull. My tongue felt like it was wrapped in cotton, and by God, if it my stomach didn’t feel like it was going to crawl up my throat any second. One crack of my eyelids let me know I wasn’t ready to face daylight just yet. I yanked the covers over my head and wiggled down beneath the blankets to hide from the reality of the largest fucking hangover in the world.

            A grunt echoed in my ear just as a heavy arm curled around my waist. It dragged me back against a solid mass of muscle that was so warm that it was nearly stifling.

            “Don’t get up, darlin’,” came a voice thick with sleep. The arm tightened, a large roughened hand settling over my stomach. A nose buried itself in my hair. “Five more minutes.”

            My alcohol addled brain seemed to acquiesce. I found myself wriggling further beneath the blankets, curling into the body wrapped around me.

            The voice hummed in happiness. It murmured softly against my skin. Something familiar crept into my thoughts.

            I curled my hand beneath my cheek, felt something cold brush along my skin. Stifling a yawn, I glanced down. A band of metal wound around my ring finger.

            I sat up, my head swimming, vomit clawing up my throat. My vision blurred, and I blinked to clear it. The world came into view.

            “Shit,” I whispered. I tried to think back to the night before, to figure out what the hell had happened. “Shit, shit, shit.”

            Cold air hit me as I slipped out of the bed onto rubbery legs. I swayed, leaned back on the mattress to keep from falling onto the floor. The faint light coming through the curtains hit my eyes like white-hot needles.

            The body in the bed stirred. Hazelnut hair peeked out from crisp hotel sheets. A face appeared from beneath the blankets. Ginger brows and eyes with long lashes and fine smile lines in the corners. A well-trimmed scruff along a strong jaw line. A mouth that I’d seen grin, smirk, grimace, and growl.

            “Dean?” His name came out like a squeak. My heart pounded in my chest. _Shit_ , I thought. _What the_ fuck _did we do last night?_

            His blue eyes blinked open. A sloppy smile curved his lips. “Mornin’.”

            “Really? That’s all you have to say? What the hell happened last night, Dean?” I knew I was getting loud, shouting. Hysteria crept into my voice. “Why the _fuck_ are we in bed together?”

            He sat up in the bed, the blankets falling away to reveal the chiseled curves and planes of his bare chest. Heat burned into my face as I forced myself to look away. I felt the sweep of his gaze over me and snatched up a pillow from the floor, holding it in front of me.

            A shadow fell over me. _Don’t look. Don’t look._ I could smell the scent of Dean’s skin, feel the heat radiating off his torso. Images flashed briefly through my thoughts. I had a sudden glimpse of half a memory of my fingers wound in Dean’s hair, his face buried against the curve of my throat.

            “Don’t you remember _anything_?” he asked.

            I shook my head, not willing to trust my voice. My thoughts didn’t want to leave the fragments of memory—or dreams or wishes—of Dean.

            He let out a sound that reminded me of a wounded animal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him clench his left hand. Something glinted in a shaft of light.

 

* * *

 

_Dean, The Previous Night, 1:00 AM_

            The air was cooler than I expected for a night in the desert. Lights seemed to burn into the sky on the strip as I walked alongside Mera. I had an arm around her shoulders to keep her steady. She was staggering a little more than I liked.

            “I think you need to lay off the tequila shots, Mera,” I said, unable to hide the smile in my voice. “You’re about to hit the concrete.”

            She giggled and leaned a little closer to my side. Her words weren’t slurring as much as at the restaurant, but she was still clearly buzzed. “Am not. ‘Cause I’ve got you.”

            I didn’t try to stop myself from grinning. My arm tightened a little around her neck. She seemed smaller than she did in the trainer’s room. “This time. Please tell me you don’t drink like that all the time.”

            “Not since college,” she said with a sigh. “Went to some _major_ rages back then.”

            I chuckled. “I’m sure you did, darlin’.”

            We walked in silence for a while, her leaning against my side. The alcohol in her system made her clingy. I didn’t mind really… in fact, it was kind of cute.

            “Hey,” I said, glancing to the side at one of those 24-hour greasy spoons just off the strip. “Let’s get some food in you before I drop you at the hotel.”

            She looked up at me and smiled. God, it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. She had these wide amber eyes framed with full lashes and hair the color of butterscotch and honey. And the way her mouth looked when she smiled… it made me weak in the knees.

            “Starving,” she mumbled as she ducked her head against the curve of my shoulder.

            I steered the two of us in the door and toward a booth near the back. “Which side you want?”

            She plopped down onto the padded bench and shimmied toward the wall. I smirked and made to sit on the other side of the table.

            “No!” Mera said firmly. She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers in my direction. “Here.”

            Shrugging off my coat, I slid into the booth beside her. I draped the fabric around her shoulders and picked up a menu. “You need water. And coffee.”

            Mera’s hands wrapped around my arm as she settled her cheek against my shoulder. “I just need you.”

* * *

 

_Mera, Morning, 10:25 AM_

            “Dean?” My voice came out small, slightly afraid. “Please… tell me what happened last night.”

            Something flashed in his eyes at the sound of my voice. I searched his face, looking for any indication of what he might be thinking. Cornflower darkened, slowly taken over by shades of gunmetal and stormy seas. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

            Dean crossed the space between us with slow, measured steps. His gaze swept over me. It was like a physical touch that raised goosebumps along my arms. I was suddenly hit with another brief fragment of memory—watching the tips of his fingers skim along my wrists and curl around my own digits. Gold glittered against the backdrop of skin.

            He stopped within arm’s reach of me. I could smell the lingering aroma of his skin, tinged over with the faint scent of black cherry that was all too familiar. My heart pushed painfully against my ribs as I realized he smelled like me.

            “Mera…” he said, a gruff edge to his voice that was more than just sleep. His hand settled tenderly over mine, turning it over until the band around my finger faced upward. “If we’re going to have this conversation, darlin’, we’re gonna need some coffee. And maybe some whisky.”


	3. Chapter 2: We Need a Taxi 'Cause You're Hungover

Chapter 2: We Need a Taxi ‘Cause You’re Hungover

_(GIF owned by ambreignsmemories on Tumblr)_

_Dean, Morning, 10:40 AM_

            Mera had locked herself in the bathroom with an armful of clothes and toiletries. I could hear her moving around in there—brushing her teeth, washing her face—as I stood by the door. Words tumbled around in my head, trying to put themselves together in a way that would explain all this.

            At least she wasn’t crying. That was a good sign, I guess.

            My suitcase was in my room six floors up, and I would be lying if I said that I was afraid she wouldn’t be there if I went to change. So I paced around the room, dragging on my jeans and shirt from the night before. I watched my reflection in the black television screen, licked my fingers to flatten my hair. When that proved useless, I tugged my beanie on, glad that I’d left it in the pocket of my jacket.

            With nothing else to do, I sat on the end of the bed and stared down at my hands. The thin band of gold around my left ring finger winked at me. It felt heavy against my flesh. I twisted it around with my other hand, nervous. My leg bounced in anxiety.

 

_Mera, Morning, 10:40 AM_

            The lights were too bright. Their glare made my head throb. I splashed cool water on my face, along my neck, and around behind my ears. My stomach turned, and I hovered over the toilet just in case. When nothing happened, I sank down on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes, working to catch my breath.

            I stayed in the bathroom as long as I could, not trusting myself to face Dean. The ring on my finger was enough of an explanation of what happened last night. We were in Vegas—the center for getting drunk and making life changing decisions in a roadside chapel with some sad man dressed like Elvis.

            When I couldn’t hide any longer, I swung open the door and glanced out nervously. The haziness of the night before and the fragmented memories of Dean’s fingers and mouth against my skin made me suddenly self-conscious. Was I imagining that things had gone further than a drunken spur-of-the-moment chapel wedding?

            Or… perhaps… was I _hoping_ that it had?

            I shook my head, trying to clear it of the half-formed daydreams that I’d never let myself encourage. The easiest thing to do was to talk this out, get this whole mistake annulled, and swear to never speak of it again— _especially_ at work.

            “You said something about coffee, Ambrose?” I said, turning the corner from the bathroom.

My eyes settled on Dean sitting at the edge of the bed. He sat with his hands between his knees, the fingers of his right hand twisting the ring on his left. His clothes were rumpled—obviously the ones he’d been wearing the night before. His faded copper locks where hidden beneath his worn black beanie. Even with the scruff along his jaw, he looked incredibly young and soft in that moment.

            Something in my stomach flipped over. He turned his head toward me, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile. The cornflower of his eyes seemed brighter than before.

            “Yeah,” he said, standing up. His body seemed to thrum with pent up energy. “Yeah, let’s take a walk. There’s a place not far. We… uh… we passed it last night.”

            I smiled a little as Dean shrugged on his jacket. As often as I’d been around him—poked and prodded and worked out a thousand sore spots—I’d never truly noticed how tall he was. Most of the time, we were eye to eye while he sat on my examination table.

            A moment slipped by, Dean standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. His mouth curled up in a smirk, almost as if he knew the thoughts that raced around my brain at his nearness.

            He led the way out of the hotel in near silence. He kept a respectable distance between us, the set of his shoulders giving off unease. I let myself get lost in the sound of our feet against the sidewalk and the cars on the street. There were so many things I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know where to start.

_Dean, The Night Before, 1:15 AM_

            I smiled, thanking the waitress for my second cup of coffee and Mera’s food. She let out a little grunt of contentment as she unwound herself from my bicep to tuck in. I had to admit, she was a woman after my own heart—eggs over easy, burnt to a crisp bacon, toast and grape jelly—especially after she nearly inhaled the bacon in three bites.

            “Slow down,” I said, putting my hand over hers. “It’s not going anywhere.”

            She looked up at me, a grin making her eyes twinkle. “It’s going in my belly.”

            I laughed, shaking my head. “Are you always like this when you’re drunk, Mera?”

            Instead of answering, she turned her attention back to her plate. She hummed happily as she ate, her head doing this little bop to music that only she could hear.

            Fuck, but it was adorable.

            I scratched at my jaw, trying to hide the indulgent grin that I felt stretching over my face. She was lost in her own little world next to me, even if she did keep bumping my shoulder as she danced to her own beat. The only time I’d ever spent with her was in the trainer’s room at work and a few times of rehab right after my surgery. Mera Reynolds was all business when it came to her responsibilities for the superstars, so I’d never actually seen her unwound and soft around the edges. She was fierce and damn good at her job, but God help me if I didn’t wonder sometimes what she was like when she didn’t have to deal with us.

            “Here,” she said, her voice drawing me out of my own thoughts. Her fingers held out a triangle of toast slathered with jelly that dripped off the edges. A smile curved her mouth.

            “Eat your food, darlin’,” I said casually, trying to push her hand away.

            Mera poked at my lips with the toast, her smile getting brighter each time I tried to wiggle away. “You know you want it, Deano. Eat it.”

            Rolling my eyes, I gave in and took a bite. She smiled as if she’d won some victory before retreating to her plate, finishing off the slice she’d offered. My stomach grumbled, unhappy that I hadn’t ordered anything for myself.

            With a shrug, I reached over, snatched up her fork, and took a bite of her eggs. Instead of being upset, Mera patted me on the wrist and grinned. “See? I know you, Dean. You just never realized.”

 

 _Dean_ , _Morning, 10:58 AM_

            I held the door open, gesturing for her to go in ahead of me. She glanced away with a small smile, tucking her hair behind her ear. Maybe I imagined the blush that crept along her cheekbones. And maybe I hoped it was there.

            Mera went up to the counter, rattled off an order that seemed more chemistry experiment than coffee. She tapped her fingers against the Formica as she watched the barista work. “And give me a medium black, two cream, no sugar.”

            Her gaze met mine, those haunting amber eyes ringed with flecks of deep gold. I couldn’t catch my breath when she looked at me like that. She didn’t even know she did it, but I lost all common sense when she so much as glanced at me.

            Settling my hand against the middle of her back, I slid a twenty across the counter. “How often do you watch me, darlin’?”

            White teeth flashed against the coral fullness of her bottom lip. The color burned in her face. _Hell_ , I thought, feeling my fingertips flex against her back. _I’m well and truly fucked here. No matter what I do._


	4. Chapter 3: Spare Me Your Freakin' Dirty Looks

Chapter 3: Spare Me Your Freakin’ Dirty Looks

_(GIF owned by dean-ambroselover on Tumblr)_

_Mera, Morning, 11:01 AM_

            “So,” I said nervously, feeling my foot shake against the leg of my chair. My fingers wrapped around my coffee cup to keep them from trembling. The center of my back burned with the memory of Dean’s touch. “You going to tell me what happened last night?”

            Dean rubbed his hand over his jaw, scratching at his beard. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Play by play or the highlight reel?”

            I couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Start with highlights.”

            He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbed hard at his eyes. “McIntyre rolled out the shots, I swear there were fifty of them. You had enough that I didn’t want you to be alone on the way to the hotel. Walked back, had breakfast at one in the morning. Yada yada… ended up at The Little White Wedding Chapel and then back at the hotel.”

            I swallowed, nodded. Something congealed in my stomach, making me feel sick. “So… we got drunk married in Vegas.”

            He sighed, looking down at the coffee trapped between his palms. After a moment of quiet, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He slid his thumb across the bottom and pushed it across the table, a video already queued up on the screen.

            “Press play.”

 

_Dean, Morning, 11:04 AM_

            I watched Mera as she touched her fingertip to my phone screen. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the feel of those fingertips on my chest, the sight of them wrapped up in the Shield dog tags I wore as she pulled me down for a kiss. I made sure to keep my eyes on the tabletop.

            The video was already burned into my memory. I don’t think I’d ever forget the moment that we took it.

            My voice tumbled out of the speaker. “You sure about this?”

            Her laughter ran through me like whisky in my blood. I could see her—hair down, twisted into wild curls from the desert wind, eyes bright—grinning at the phone that I pointed in her direction.

            “Absolutely.” Not a tremble or hesitation in her voice. “Now come on.”

            My heart thundered against my ribs. I knew what came next. The camera turned, caught an image of her curling into an embrace against my chest, a smile of pure contentment on her face. I wrapped an arm around her neck to draw her closer and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

            The clip cut off. Her fingers shook slightly as she handed the phone back to me. I couldn’t read her expression. My gut churned as I began to wonder if a trip to the courthouse was in our plan for the day.

            She finally looked at me, and it nearly broke my heart. “Whose idea was it?”

            “Yours.” I finished off my coffee, wincing a little at the bitter dregs at the bottom. “We talked about it for an hour before we set foot in the place.”

            Mera nodded, going quiet for a long while. Every second of silence made the panic take root in my chest. The cat was out of the bag. No need trying to put it back in.

            “Was the… uh…” I glanced up, saw how red her face had gone. She picked at the nail of her thumb. “Did we…”

            I chuckled a little, trying not to enjoy her discomfort too much. “Consummate the marriage? No.”

            Fear seemed to fall away from her shoulders. I didn’t know whether to be hurt or insulted.

            “Do you really think I’d…” I shook my head, allowing myself a smirk. “Trust me, darlin’, if I fucked you, you’d remember it.”

            “Dean!” She gasped, looking around at the rest of the patrons in the shop. It didn’t seem possible, but she went even redder than before. Christ, she was beautiful.

 

_Mera, Morning, 11:05 AM_

            Heat burned along my entire body. It was as if I could feel the ghosts of his hands along my skin. The video he’d shown me kept replaying over and over in my mind.

            I’d looked so happy—content in a way that I hadn’t been in a long time. And Dean had seemed—he looked like a completely different man than the unstable lunatic I knew from work.

            The memories were so hazy, and there were so many questions. What had I said? How had we ended up in that chapel looking like we were in love? Why had he gone along with the whole thing in the first place?

            “Why?” The question squeaked out before I could stop it.

            Dean’s answer was simple. He stood and walked around the table to sit next to me. Roughened fingers skimmed over my wrist and threaded with my own. “Because you looked at me with those eyes of yours and you said…” He stared for a long moment at our entwined hands. “I just couldn’t say no.”

            My pulse thrummed so quickly that it took my breath away. I thought back to the man he seemed to be in the video. To the woman I was. To what seemed like a dream that had sprung fully formed from the depths of my secret wishes.

            “Dean…” I started then stopped, trying to get my thoughts together. “I know this whole thing isn’t fair. And I’m sorry if you felt like you were forced into this. But at least it’ll be easy to undo.”

            His fingers twitched against mine. He drew our hands against his chin, kissed the band around my finger with soft, warm lips. A memory flashed across my mind—standing in the desert wind, stars spread out across the sky in every direction, my hand wrapped around the dog tags he wore, pulling him down toward me, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth as he kissed me. Warmth turned my body to jelly, rushed up into my face.

            “What makes you think I want to undo it, Mera?”

            Dean’s words punched through my romantic thoughts. It took a moment for my brain to make sense of them, to process what he was saying. And it wasn’t necessarily easy to think when he kept skimming that sinfully soft mouth along my knuckles.

            “We barely know each other, Dean.”

            He smiled against my skin. “You’d be surprised how well we know each other, darlin’. The both of us are quiet and observant.” He turned those cornflower eyes toward me, and any thought of resistance started to melt away. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to get to know you better.”

            _God, I need a drink_ , I thought. Some liquid courage would be helpful just then. Instead, I downed the rest of my coffee and breathed deep, trying to calm my nerves.

            I glanced at him, saw the wicked smile that appeared. “And I mean it, Mera. I want to get to know you better. In _every_ way.”

 

_Dean, The Night Before, 2:33 AM_

            The food had done wonders for her lucidity. Mera was wide awake and ready to conquer the Strip. She’s still have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but for now she was running headlong into sobriety.

            A sea of people parted around us as she pulled me along the sidewalk. Her fingers were wrapped firmly around my palm. As often as she’d touched me, I’d never fully appreciated how soft her skin was. I wondered if she was bothered by my rough and calloused hands—after all, she’d gone to college, I’d spent my life fighting and getting bloodied.

            “Where the hell are you going?” I huffed, surprised at how fast she could walk. She bounced with excitement, her eyes brighter than any neon light in the city.

            “Do you like me, Dean?”

            The question came out of nowhere. She stopped and turned back to me. People jostled past, grumbling at how we were holding up the foot traffic. Her words hung in the air as I maneuvered us out of the way into a little alcove.

            Her fingers flattened against my chest, palm settled over my tags. “Do you? Do you like me, Dean?”

            My gut twisted, threatened to drop out completely. Warm desert wind caught her deep gold hair, making it dance around her shoulders. I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out, wound strands of it around my fingers, my fist. It felt like silk. _Shit_ , I swore internally, _she’s so fucking beautiful_.

            “More than that,” I whispered, surprised at my courage. Words I’d promised myself I’d never say aloud. Emotions that I’d locked away and held in a white-knuckle grip for what felt like eons.

            She gave me those eyes—sunset wrapped in molten flame—and pulled on the chain around my neck. The closer she came, the more my control slipped. My fingers tightened in her hair as our lips met. She gripped the chain so tight that it dug into the back of my neck, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the feel of her against me, the taste of her lips, the smell of her skin.

            I tugged her closer, hand splayed over her lower back. She turned my blood to gasoline and my entire being went up in flames. One kiss, that’s all it took. I was lost—hopelessly addicted to the feel of having Mera Reynolds in my arms.

 

_Mera, Morning, 11:08 AM_

            There was a lost sort of look in his eyes. It was as if he was somewhere far away from me.

            A shadow rippled over the table. I glanced up, heart dropping to my toes when I realized who it was. Skinny jeans, hoodie, beanie. Arms crossed over his chest, brown-eyed gaze flicking between me, Dean, and our entwined hands.

            “I guess I know why you never came back to the casino now, Ambrose,” Seth Rollins said flatly. It was hard to tell who he was angrier with, me or his friend. “Whatever happened to not dating your best friend’s ex, huh?”


	5. Chapter 4: Let's Get the Hell Outta Town

Chapter 4: Let’s Get the Hell Outta Town

_(GIF owned by dean-ambroselover on Tumblr)_

_Mera, Morning, 11:10 AM_

            My stomach turned over. There was a fury in Seth’s brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Fear like a spike of adrenaline hit my system. Without meaning to, my fingers tightened in Dean’s grasp.

            “Rollins,” Dean began, sounding as if he were trying to calm his friend and stake his territory at the same time. “Don’t get bent outta shape.”

            “Wow,” Seth said slowly, leaning back on his heels. For a moment, it looked as if he would topple over backward. He righted himself, hands going out to grip the back of the chair in front of him. His knuckles were white. “That’s all you’ve got to say about this, huh? Not even a courtesy call of ‘Hey, brother, I think I’m going to fuck Mera. That cool with you?’”

            “Dude,” Dean growled out. “That’s not…”

            Seth turned his attention from his friend to me. There had been a time when I’d loved Seth with everything I had. When I’d made my life’s choices with him at the center of my world. He was the reason I had a job with WWE. The whole reason I went into athletic training in the first place. But somewhere along the way, everything between us had gotten poisoned by ego and pride. Once, I would have melted when he looked at me.

            Now… now all I felt was a cold detachment.

            “Are you sleeping your way through the whole roster, Mera? Huh?” His words dripped with venom. I braced before them, swearing that he’d never see how deeply they sliced.

            “Alright,” Dean murmured beneath his breath, “that’s it.”

 

_Dean, Morning, 11:10 AM_

            It was like I didn’t have control over my own body. There was this rage that blew up inside me like an inferno. Before I knew what happened, I was on my feet and swinging.

            The right hook caught Seth off guard. He stumbled back, eyes going wide as he landed hard on his ass.

            “Don’t you ever talk shit like that again, Rollins. You hear me?” The words weren’t mine. There was an edge to them that was unfamiliar. A bomb had gone off in my chest, a pure and animal instinct to protect the woman at my side. “Keep her name out of your filthy mouth.”

            I reached for Mera, felt that primal thing in my torso calm as her fingers interlocked with mine. She stayed close as we slipped out the front door of the coffee shop and took off at a near run down the sidewalk.

            Half a block away, I stopped—partly to catch my breath and partly to be certain that she was okay. I tugged her against me, felt my arms lock around her as if I could hold back the rest of the world. Her fingers fisted into my shirt as she let me hold her.

            “Mera…” I’d lost my voice. All I knew was the desperate mantra that chased itself through my brain. _Protect mine. Protect mine_. She clung to me, her proximity soothing away at that fury that had taken root inside me. I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her.

 

_Dean, The Night Before, 2:45 AM_

            She wanted to see the Bellagio. I tried to tell her the fountain show was over, but she wouldn’t listen. Mera wanted to see it, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take her there.

            I hailed a cab, slid into the backseat beside her. She smiled and fumbled in her pockets for something. Frowned when she didn’t find it.

            “My phone’s in the hotel. Gimme yours,” she said, holding out her hand as if the demand would easily be met.

            I quirked a brow at her, chuckling. “Why?” I dug it out of my pocket anyway, knowing I was hopelessly lost to anything she wanted.

            “Turn on the camera, Dean. Please?”

            Without hesitation, I unlocked it and brought up my camera app. She grabbed my arm, pulled it around her neck, leaned in against my chest. I switched to the front camera and grinned down at her, snapping a photo. _I want to remember this moment forever_.

            She reached out and turned it to video, hit record.

            “Where are we going, Dean?”

            I ignored the camera, kept my gaze on her snuggled up to my side. “I’m takin’ you to the Bellagio, darlin’.”

            Pink crawled up her face. She liked it when I called her that. I filed it away to remember later.

            She glanced up at me with that face of hers—a face a Renaissance master would have killed to create—and pursed her lips a little. “Do you like me?”

            “Yes,” I said, watching the way her eyes lit up at the answer. “I like you, darlin’.”

            Her giggle was like music. Like wine pumping through my veins. It made my head cloudy with wishes for something greater, something more.

            “Good,” Mera said quietly. “I like you, too.”

            My thumb brushed the screen, turned off the camera. I’d show her the film in the morning, I promised internally. If she wanted to forget the entire night happened, I’d go along with it. But for now, I was going to stand with her under the Nevada sky on the edge of the Bellagio fountain.

            For now, I was going to love her.

            For as long as she’d let me.

 

_Mera, Morning, 11:12 AM_

            Dean’s arms were tight around me. One hand tucked into my hair and cradling my head against his chest. The other curled around my shoulders, palm settled in the middle of my back. His breath tickled the top of my scalp.

            I slipped my arms beneath his jacket and around his waist. My fingers locked behind him, burrowing into his embrace. I drew in deep breaths of his scent—that aroma that was spice and sweat and the faint overtones of me.

            “Are you all right?” he asked quietly. The pad of his thumb stroked down the back of my neck even as his palm still held me safely against his body.

            My pulse slowed as I focused on the concrete sensation of being near him. I held the sight of him from the video at the chapel in my mind. “I’m fine,” I replied at last. “I’m fine.”

            At last, he released his hold enough that I could pull away if I wanted. I let myself linger for a moment longer before I met his gaze.

            Stormy seas stared back at me. The way his eyes skipped over my face, as if taking an inventory of each freckle, sent a shiver down my spine.

            “Dean… I…” My voice caught in my throat as his knuckles ghosted along the side of my face. His skin was rough and calloused, the evidence of a lifetime of physicality. He caught my chin between his forefinger and thumb.

            “You completely sober now, darlin’?” His voice was gruff, seeming to come from somewhere deep in his chest.

            I nodded, tongue darting unconsciously out over my bottom lip. Gruff turned to a chest-rumbling growl as his eyes followed the movement.

            “Good.” Dean closed the space between us, his mouth settling against mine in a heady mix of tender and powerful. There was something barely restrained behind the kiss that made my knees go weak. He held me as if he’d done so a thousand times, kissed me like he’d already memorized the shape of my lips.

            It felt like flying. Like the whole world was spread open beneath me and, even if I fell, it would be an exquisite death.


	6. Chapter 5: Remember What You Told Me

Chapter 5: Remember What You Told Me

_(GIF owned by katewilliamgeorgecharlottelouis on Tumblr)_

_Dean, The Night Before, 3:00 AM_

            We walked along the sidewalk leading to the Bellagio. Once we were out of the cab, she took my hand and strolled along as if there was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be. There was a persistent half-smile on my face as we meandered toward the still fountain.

            “I told you the show was over,” I said sadly as we stood along the edge of the water. Mera was at my side, fingers wrapped around my palm, eyes closed. A breeze came up over the fountain, smelling of dust and chlorine, and ran its fingers through the honeysuckle strands of her hair.

            I watched her breathe deep of the night air. She was lit up from beneath by the lights around the fountain—the ones beneath the water making her shimmer like some ethereal thing. I had a sudden gut-check feeling that I wasn’t worthy to look at her like this. Her entire being was wrapped up in something glorious that made her beauty stand out even more.

            “I had a dream about this place once,” Mera whispered into the wind. She tilted her face up toward the sky. “Out of all the places I’d ever seen in Vegas, this was the one that seemed the most genuine.”

            She stopped for a moment, sadness tinting her expression. I fished out my phone, turned on the camera. Hit record just as she continued.

            “It’s stupid, I know. But there’s something romantic about this oasis in the desert. I dreamed that this was the place where I first heard the love of my life… where I first heard him say he loved me.” She took a deep breath and turned toward me. Her smile was indulgent when she saw the camera.

            “What are you doing, Dean?”

            I swallowed hard. My heart was going to tear right out of my chest. Hell, if she wanted it that way, she could have it. I licked my lips, screwed up my courage.

            “Mera…” I stepped closer to her, camera still rolling. She looked up at me with those autumn gold eyes and those lips that I swore would be the death of me. I cupped her face with my hand, ran my thumb along her cheekbone. “I’m telling you that I love you.”

            Serenity bled across her features. She melted into my touch. Her being seemed suffused with light, radiating from the inside out. I didn’t need her to say anything. If she forgot this night when we were in the stark light of day, all that I needed was the memory of this moment—the look on her face and the glory of saying those words out loud just once.

 

_Mera, Morning, 11:15 AM_

            “Dean,” I whispered into the space between us. He nuzzled his nose against my hair, humming in contentment. I still clung to him, reveling in the strength of his arms and the solidness of his chest. “We should go.”

            He finally stirred, looking down at me. “Where?”

            My mind cast about for a place we could go where Seth wouldn’t find us—at least not immediately. There were so many things to talk about, so many emotions that I hadn’t quite worked through yet. I needed some quiet where Dean and I could figure this out.

            “I don’t know.”

            Dean’s eyes searched my face. I watched as he smiled softly, something knowing burning in his gaze. “I know just the place.”

            He took my hand again, drew me out toward the sidewalk. He glanced side to side, probably checking to see if Seth was anywhere nearby. When he saw a cab, he let out a shout and waved it down.

            Slipping into the backseat gave me a dizzying sense of déjà vu. I blinked back a sensation of vertigo as he put his arm around me, drawing me close. “You okay?”

            Images chased themselves through my memory in an effort to form. They were little more than flickers of light and picture without context or sound. I snatched a moment out of the maelstrom. Dean, hovering over me, shimmering waves dancing in his faded denim eyes as his mouth formed soundless words.

            “Where are we going, Dean?”

            He blinked. “I’m takin’ you to the Bellagio, darlin’.”

 

_Dean, Morning, 11:20 AM_

            It was different seeing it in the light of day. The sun was high overhead and people milled about. Every now and then, spouts would shoot up from the middle of the fountain, but it was nothing like the famous show that took place every evening at sunset.

            Mera leaned against the wrought iron fencing beside me, staring out at the fountain and twisting the ring on her finger nervously. I braced myself somewhere deep inside. This was the moment that I’d been dreading, the moment when the night before became nothing more than memory.

            “We came here last night, didn’t we?” she said at last. She kept her gaze on the water, even as the wind reacquainted itself with her silken locks.

            I clenched my fists to stop myself from reaching for her and trapping those sweeping strands between my fingers. “Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Around three.”

            Her eyes closed, face turned up toward into the sun. It was hardly possible, but she was more breathtaking then that she was beneath the stars. This was no otherworldly glow, but a highlighting of the perfection that was Mera Reynolds.

            She nodded, finally turning toward me. I felt heat rush into my face. It was a staggering thing to be thirty-three and blushing.

            “I always wanted to come here,” she said quietly. I got lost in those eyes of hers, hardly hearing what she said. “Especially at night under the stars when everything is calm and lit up beneath the water. It’s romantic that way, I think.”

            I looked away, suddenly terrified of what might happen if she saw the truth in my eyes. “You said you wanted to come here with the love of your life.”

            She grinned, looked down at the band on her finger. “Yeah, I suppose I did. The thing is…”

            “Listen, Mera… you don’t have to…”

            She turned toward me, her smile grown wider and brighter. “Ambrose, shut up and let me say this.”

            Chastised, I held up both hands. She looked me over. Her fingers brushed against the front of my shirt. Every coherent thought left my brain at her touch.

            “Whatever happened last night… I’m glad it did.” Her palms flattened against my ribs. “You were always off limits. But I had this hope, that one day… What I’m trying to say is that I’m _already_ here with the love of my life. I’m here with you.”

            My lips twitched. A smirk turned up the corners. I didn’t mean to look like a smug ass, but it was fucking fantastic to hear those words. I brushed my fingers through her hair, curled my hand around the back of her neck to draw her closer.

            “So you want to see the rest of our wedding video, or what?”

            She tilted her head back and laughed. I took the chance to press a kiss at the base of her jaw. Her arms wound around my waist, and I was home.


	7. Chapter 6: Shake the Glitter Out Your Clothes

Chapter 6: Shake the Glitter Out Your Clothes

_(GIF owned by dudeambrose on Tumblr)_

_Mera, Afternoon, 12:02 PM_

            Dean and I made our way back to the hotel in a companionable silence. There was something peaceful about being beside him. It was in the way that he looked at me with those mesmerizing blue eyes or how his dimples showed when he smiled. It was how he appeared so open when we sat side-by-side, his arm stretched out on the seat behind me in the cab so I could lean against him.

            We split up when we entered the lobby. I was headed toward my room on the fourth floor, he was headed further up. A shower was calling me—something to drown out the desert heat that had settled in my skin.

            I rounded the corner to my room, stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Seth leaning against the wall. He caught sight of me before I could slip back out of view. I took a deep breath and steeled myself to meet him.

            Seth glared as I pulled my keycard from my pocket. “Surprising. You aren’t sharing a room with Dean.”

            My jaw flexed as I clenched my teeth. “What do you want, Seth?”

            He chuckled darkly. “An explanation. And maybe an apology.”

            I fought down the urge to slap him. “I don’t owe you an explanation for what I do with my time. And I think I’m the one owed an apology around here.”

            “We’re going back to that, huh?” He leaned his shoulder against the wall, physically blocking me into the end of the hallway. “I apologized a long time ago, Mera. You just refuse to give up on it.”

            “You apologized for _getting caught_.” I balled my fists, trying desperately to calm the fury and fear that spread through me. “I did everything you asked of me, Seth. Every choice I’ve made since I was seventeen has been because of you. I followed you around on the indies, I picked my career to be close to you. And you threw it all away by sleeping with every girl who gave you the time of day.”

            He sighed, stood up straighter. “Look, I get it. We weren’t right for each other. But you’ve got a good job with WWE now, right? And as long as I don’t get hurt, we don’t have to have anything to do with one another. But… you can’t date Ambrose.”

            “You gave up the right to tell me what to do when you broke my heart, Rollins.”

            Seth rolled his eyes. “Mera, there are other guys on the roster who are single and who aren’t shit to me. Go fuck one of them. Hell, marry them for all I care. Just not Ambrose.”

            My eyes burned. I teetered on the edge of tears, fought to keep them back. “Fuck off, Seth. And stay out of my life.”

            I slipped into my room, making sure to shut and lock the door behind me. Only then did I let myself break down into sobs.

 

_Dean, The Night Before, 3:15 AM_

            Mera burrowed against my chest as the breeze turned colder. Her arms slipped around my waist beneath my jacket. I settled my chin against the top of her head and held her, burning with warmth from the inside out.

            “It’s time to get you back to the hotel,” I said, a little melancholy. “You’re freezing.”

            She nuzzled her cheek against me, letting out a little hum of happiness that made my blood run like lava in my veins. I was overcome with the desire to hear that sound again—for the rest of my life. Somewhere, deep inside, I sent a wish out to the universe. That when morning came, she would let me stay at her side.

            “No, I’m not,” she murmured, snuggling closer. “You’re keeping me warm.”

            I couldn’t help but laugh softly and hold her tighter. “I can keep you warm on the way back.”

            When she looked at me, a pout turned her mouth. She batted her eyelashes. It made her look so innocent and fragile. And, God help me, it stirred something inside me—something deep and primal that made want to protect her and ravage her at once. My brain fogged with images of her pale skin beneath my fingertips.

            “Do you love me, Dean?” Mera asked softly.

            The words tore my heart from my chest. “Yes.”

            She smiled, and fire burned in the amber of her eyes. It was as if her heart and her soul had opened themselves up, and I could see the entirety of it in her gaze. I knew in that moment that I was hers in every way. I would do anything to see her smile like that again.

            “Let’s get married.” She said it as if it was the natural conclusion of the conversation.

            My lips parted to answer, but I reined my eagerness in. I had to remind myself that she had been drinking, that she might not remember this night when she woke up in the morning. But she was looking at me like I was the center of the universe.

            “You’re still tipsy, Mera,” I replied carefully.

            She shook her head. “I’m not.”

            I closed my eyes, fought down the urge to kiss her, to give in to everything she ever asked. It was a herculean effort to keep my deepest wishes under control.

            “Ask me again in an hour. For now, let’s go somewhere warm.”

 

 _Dean_ , _Afternoon, 12:20 PM_

            I knocked on Mera’s door for the third time. “Mera?” I called through the metal.

            There was a faint rustling on the inside. Locks disengaged. The handle turned. When she appeared, my heart sank to my toes.

            Her hair was damp, knotted up on top of her head. It looked more like caramel just then. Her eyes were red and puffy, cheeks blotchy. She was dressed in a pair of stretchy black pants and a tank top.

            “May I?” I asked softly, gesturing toward the inside of the hotel room.

            She shrugged, stepped out of the way. I passed close by her, feeling every cell of by body yearn toward her. She closed the door behind me, snapping the locks back into place.

            I waited until she turned toward me. Without a thought, I closed the space between us and tucked her into my arms. She hooked her arms around me, palms settling on my shoulder blades. The moment her cheek touched my chest, she succumbed to tears.

            My fingers stroked her back, cradled her head. That primal thing awoke in my chest again. I wanted nothing more than to soothe her, to take away the pain that was driving her to sobs. Every instinct screamed at me to fix it, to stop her tears, to make her smile again.

            “What can I do?” I asked.

            She sniffled. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do, Dean.”

            I pressed my lips to her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. I’d never felt this kind of ache before, this burning and desperate desire to be the joy of someone’s life. Mera’s tears broke my heart into pieces.

            “Hey,” I whispered, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “We’re in this together now, Mera. It’s you and me against the world.”

            She turned those eyes up at me and, I swear, I could see the universe in them. I watched as she wiped away tears, the band still glinting on her finger.

            I took her hand in mine, kissed the knuckles of her left hand, turned her palm and held it against my cheek. She was there, solid and warm and beautiful in my arms. I loved her with every fiber of my being, with every breath in my body.

            “Do you love me, Mera?” The words came out a murmured prayer. I hadn’t meant to say them, but now that they were out in the world, I was desperate for her answer.

            Her fingers curled against my cheek. Soft skin brushed along my beard, touched the spot where a dimple showed when I smiled. The laws of the universe stood still. Time stretched to infinity and compressed into a singularity.

            “Yes,” she said at last.

            Everything exploded into being with that one word. It was the Big Bang all over again, but inside my heart and my soul. She loved me, and she was mine.

            “Good,” I growled, lowering my mouth to hers, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss.


	8. Chapter 7: That's What You Get

Chapter 7: That’s What You Get

_(GIF owned by toosweetme on Tumblr)_

_Dean, Afternoon, 12:28 PM_

            I swear it was like she melted into me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me close. And holy shit—she kissed me like she couldn’t get enough.

            My fingers loosed her hair, wrapping the damp strands around my fist. She let out a little mewl against my lips. The primal beast that had taken root in my chest reared up, growling and snarling its instincts. _Mine. Mine. Mine_ , it rumbled. _Mine forever._

            Mera’s teeth grazed my lip, nipped playfully. I felt her grin as her tongue flicked against mine. Her fingers delved into my hair, nails grazing over my scalp.

            Panting, I broke away. My head was cloudy with desire. I tried to step back, to keep her from feeling the hard on she caused.

            “Mera…” My voice was thick, an edge to it that surprised me. I couldn’t get control of myself… couldn’t forget the memories of having her wrapped in blankets beside me, her body curled against mine, skin soft beneath my fingers and lips.

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 12:28 PM_

            Dean looked at me with eyes dark with desire. He touched me as if I was glass and steel at once—tender yet ferocious. As if he were barely holding back the truth of what he wanted from me. When he said my name… it was like a prayer and a curse at the same time.

            His fingers disentangled from my hair, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along my cheek. It sent a shiver down my spine.

            “Don’t,” I whispered, catching his hand before he could pull away. I pressed myself close, letting out a sigh when I felt him hard against me.

            Something like hope flashed over his features. I smiled and reached for his Shield dog tags. Tugging gently, I backed toward the Queen bed.

            A soft smirk curved his lips. His hazelnut hair was mussed, falling down over his denim eyes. There was something… dangerous almost… about him. It was as if he was the bad boy with the heart of gold, the man who would take you to places you never thought to go, to the edges of your imagination, and then cradle you as you fell into the abyss.

            Dean reached for me, snatched me back into his arms before I could take a breath. His smirk grew wider as he nuzzled his nose against the side of my neck. I shuddered at the feel of his mouth against my skin, his tongue tracing a path up toward my ear.

            “Buckle up, darlin’,” he growled into my ear, his breath raising goosebumps along my flesh. His arms locked around me, lifted me from the floor as if I weighed nothing.

            The next moment, I bounced against the mattress. Dean settled his knee on the edge as he tugged his shirt over his head. My heart shuddered as the curves of his muscles and planes of his chest came into view. I ached to touch him, to feel him hovering over me. My whole body burned—my blood, my limbs, my nerves.

            “Dean… please,” I whimpered.

 

_Dean, Afternoon, 12:30 PM_

            It almost undid me, hearing her whimper my name like that. I clenched my fists to stop myself from ripping every stitch of clothing to shreds. She held this wonderful power over me, and I relished every moment of it.

            _Breathe_ , I chanted silently. _Don’t you dare fuck this up._

            I crawled over her, holding myself up with my palms on either side of her body. Her fingers came up and walked over my chest. My abs contracted, my cock twitched at her touch. I fought back a snarl, a predatory sound that rose from somewhere deep inside.

            I rolled so that I lay against her side. My hand stroked down her ribs, slid beneath the hem of her tank. Her flesh was just as soft as I remembered… yielding, warm, perfect as silk. I pushed the fabric up, leaned over, let my mouth and teeth learn the contours of her torso. The way her breath quickened as I moved upward was better than the best whisky in the world.

            An instant later I had the fabric wrapped in my fist and was pulling it over her head. The flimsy garment that was her bra followed immediately after. My mouth watered at the sight of her. I closed my eyes, giving myself permission to relish the perfection of this moment.

            Then I lowered my mouth to her breasts, intent on learning every sensation that made her squirm.

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 12:35 PM_

            I arched up into him, digging my fingers into his hair to hold him against me. Dean growled, the sensation rumbling through my skin. His lips suckled, his tongue circled, teeth nipped. It was a thousand sensations that turned my entire body to putty in his hands.

            My hips bucked. I wriggled my hand between us, desperate to remove every barrier between us. He stilled as my palm pressed against his cock, rubbing up and down slowly. A groan ripped out of his throat, sending sparks along my nerves.

            “Do you love me, Dean?” I panted softly, meeting his gaze.

            The haze of desire that clouded around him broke for an instant. His forehead rested against mine, noses bumping. “More than anything.”

            I smiled, squeezing him through his jeans. “Then show me.”

            The words seemed to unleash something inside him. He crawled from the bed, fingers snatching my waistband and sweeping my pants and underwear to the floor. Rough fingers skimmed my calves, my thighs. He dropped to his knees at the side of the bed, his hands gently pressing my legs open as he pulled me closer.

            Stubble scratched against tender skin. My heart raced in anticipation. I bit my lip to keep from squealing when he ran his tongue along my center, curling around my clit in a wicked motion. Once he started, he didn’t stop. He held me tight with his arms wrapped around my thighs, giving me no way to get away from his ministrations.

            I gripped the sheets, fighting the urge to buck against his mouth. His name tumbled from my lips as he played my body toward an orgasm that threatened to tear me apart at the atomic level.

 

_Dean. Afternoon, 12:45 PM_

            She came apart like fireworks in the sky. Everything about her was gold and honey—ambrosia and nectar. God, I could spend the rest of my life between her thighs.

            I licked my lips as she opened those beautiful amber eyes. There was something dreamy about the smile on her face.

            “I’m not done yet, darlin’,” I drawled, climbing to my feet. I made quick work of my jeans, boxers. My ego trumpeted when she let out a faint gasp at the sight of me.

            I let my eyes trace over her entire body, to memorize the way that she looked lying there, skin flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. _Mine_.

            “Mera, you got anything?” The thought struck me like a blow. I was desperate to feel her around my cock, but I knew once I started there was no stopping.

            She smiled at me, softness making her look more beautiful. “I’m taken care of. Just… please…”

            I nodded, stepped between her legs. She wrapped them around my waist, pulling me closer in her impatience. I gripped my cock, guided myself into position. Leaning over, I caught her mouth in a kiss as I pressed myself into her.

            There was nothing gentle about our first time together. Desperation drove us both. I hooked her legs over my arms, pounding into her until she moaned my name and begged me to never stop.

            When she shattered around me, I followed right behind, spilling into her with a growl that tore from deep in my soul. It was heaven and hell—everything that I could ever have dreamed of and an addiction that I would never break.

            I would gladly die a thousand deaths to feel this way every day of my life.


	9. Chapter 8: Did We Get Hitched Last Night

Chapter 8: Did We Get Hitched Last Night

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_Dean, The Night Before, 4:20 AM_

            The cab rolled up outside the _Little White Wedding Chapel_. Mera propped her chin against my shoulder, watching the city go by. I passed some cash off to the driver and slid out, reaching back in to help her out onto the street. The lights from the Tunnel of Love glittered in her eyes, reminding me of the way she looked at the Bellagio.

            “Hey,” I murmured, threading our fingers together and drawing her close. She looked up at me, a soft smile on her lips, and it completely consumed me. “I love you.”

            Her smile widened, radiated light. Color ran across her cheeks, brightening the golden hues in her irises. “Do you? Honestly?”

            I gathered her into my arms, pulling her tightly against me so that my hands locked behind the small of her back. She pressed her palms against my chest, and I swore her touch burned into my flesh. “Without a doubt.”

            She rose onto her toes, her mouth finding mine in a featherlight kiss. It was beautifully breathtaking, sending electric jolts down to the soles of my feet. Her declaration was whispered against my lips, the sweetest words I’d ever heard.

            The next moment, we were inside the chapel. At a desk in the corner, we filled out paperwork, showed off our IDs. She laughed when I asked if she wanted the Elvis experience. I would have given her anything she wanted—no matter the cost—just to make her laugh like that again.

            We waited behind another couple. Mera curled close, snuck her hand into my front pocket. I let out a yelp, suddenly embarrassed that she might get her hands on something. She blushed, her fingers drawing out my phone.

            “Turn it on?” she asked quietly. From the corner of my eye, I watched her run her fingers through her hair. As if she were primping, wanting to look beautiful. She didn’t need to. The wildness of her wind-swept hair was the most glorious sight I’d ever seen.

            I turned on the camera, pointed it at her. “What are we doing, Mera?”

            She smiled up at me, ignoring the phone recording her every move. “We’re getting married, Dean.”

            I watched her for a heartbeat. “You sure about this?”

            She tucked hair behind her ear. Laughed that silver bell sound that turned my blood to wine. “Absolutely. Now come on.”

            I stepped toward her, drew her into an embrace. The camera panned with me, caught the two of us in the shot. I grinned down at her, letting myself burn this moment into my memory. Whatever happened in the morning, I would have this instant. Leaning down, I brushed my nose against hers, breathing in the scent of her skin and the desert wind.

            “Ambrose and Reynolds?” A woman in a black pantsuit waved us forward, holding our marriage license and two small boxes.

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 1:12 PM_

            Dean lay stretched out beside me, head propped up on his fist. I luxuriated on my stomach, arms wrapped around the pillow beneath my cheek. His free hand traced lazy patterns along my shoulders and back, calloused fingertips touching me like I was some priceless relic. There was something in his eyes, a look of an acolyte at worship.

            “You okay?”

            He smiled, his boyish charm lighting up his features. I watched his dimples form. Watched the faded denim of his eyes go cornflower.

            “I’ve never been happier,” he said wistfully. His fingers shifted, wrapped themselves in my hair.

            My heart beat a new rhythm in my chest. It was as if I had been reborn the moment he truly touched me. Indulgence rushed through me. The pure joy of seeing him smile, of just being in his presence.

            I let out a faint purr as his fingers brushed along my scalp. “You like my hair, don’t you, Dean?”

            He chuckled. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you. Back when you came with Seth to FCW. I remember that I thought it looked like sunlight and honey. I wanted…”

            A blush burned over his face as he looked at me, seemingly unsure of whether he was going to continue. I closed my eyes, stretched into his touch, let him take his time. It didn’t matter to me whether he said anything or not. As long as he stayed right where he was.

            “I wanted to wrap my hands in it,” he said gruffly. The memory awoken, his fingers tightened just a little around the locks in his fist. “To bury my face in it and breathe in the scent of you.”

            Reaching out, I brushed my fingers along his jaw. His words wriggled into my blood, branding me with the knowledge that he had watched me for so long. I sighed softly. “How long, Dean?”

            He looked away. Closed his eyes as if he couldn’t face me with his next words. “Since the day I met you. Every second of every day of the past seven years.”

            My heart broke. For him, for the years he spent doing everything he could to be a good man and a good friend. For me, for never taking the time to see the wonderful man who stood so long in the shadow of his friend and brother. Mostly, it broke for us… for the time that we lost.

            “Hall of Fame two years ago,” I whispered back. “It was the first time I think I’d ever seen you _really_ smile. Not in character. Not with the others. Just… you… smiling. And it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

            He nuzzled his cheek against my palm. “I remember that night. You showed up in that green dress, and I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. It was the first time I realized how much I resented Seth for having you.”

            A sad smile crossed my face. “I think he resented having me,” I joked darkly.

            Dean’s eyes snapped open, fire igniting deep within them. “You deserve so much more, Mera. You deserve the world.”

            He leaned in, kissed me softly as if to remind me that he intended to cherish me for a long time to come.

 

_Dean, The Night Before, 4:38 AM_

            Her face lit up when that band slid over her finger. I watched the way her amber eyes turned molten gold and knew that I was forever trapped within them. She was breathtaking and mesmerizing and earthshattering in her beauty.

            The moment it was over, she turned remarkably shy. I smiled, hoping that the full measure of my devotion and joy showed on my face. My fingers brushed her jaw, caught her chin to tilt her face toward mine. There was something innocent about that kiss—that first one where she was mine and I was hers.

            She took me by the hand and pulled me from the chapel, giving me just enough time to grab the paperwork. Her joy was infectious. When she smiled and asked me to dance, there was no way I would deny her. I swept her into my arms and twirled her under the stars in the parking lot.

 

_Dean, Afternoon, 1:20 PM_

            I would never forget the way Mera looked, lying there beside me with satisfaction in her eyes. It was more than just physical satisfaction. There was life in her eyes that made her look like a goddess, like this absolutely gorgeous being that was too perfect to set foot on the Earth. I was at once unworthy and desperately grateful to be the one who held her.

            “You deserve a wedding you remember,” I said wonderously. “Anything you want. Your dream.”

            She propped herself up on her elbows, her damp hair tying itself into loose curls. It fell over her shoulder in a curtain, hiding her face from me. I brushed it away, smoothing it down the silken skin of her back. _Fuck_ , I thought as I relished in the feel of her soft skin against the roughened pad of my fingers. _She’s too good for me._

            “Are you going to be there?” she asked, sincerity in her tone.

            I pressed my forehead against her shoulder, drew in deep breaths of her scent. It was black cherry and sweat and something that whispered to that animalistic instinct in my chest. Everything about it was the essence of her—of the woman who I wanted to call mine for the rest of time.

            “Up front in the suit,” I replied with a grin.

            Her lips lingered against my hair. Warmth flooded my veins. Pure happiness.

            “Then it will be my dream.”


	10. Chapter 9: Now We're Partners In Crime

Chapter 9: Now We’re Partners In Crime

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_Dean, The Night Before, 5:00 AM_

            She has the most beautiful laugh. I think I could spend the rest of my life listening to it. The sound ran through my body like an electric shock. The look on her face was more beautiful than the most priceless art. God knows I thought she was the most exquisite thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

            She yawned just as we stumbled in the door of her hotel room. Everything about her was tousled and soft. There was something innocent and fragile about her in that moment.

            “Time for you to go to bed,” I said, surprised at how lucid I sounded. I’d been up for twenty-four hours and could feel the exhaustion starting to settle into my limbs. Passing out next to her sounded like a dream come true.

            Mera looked up at me with a hazy smile. “You’ll stay,” she said. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a question or a demand, but I didn’t care.

            I smiled and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes.”

            Shyness slipped over her as she looked around the room, took in the single Queen bed. I brushed my fingers along her jaw, watching her sink into my touch. Heat flooded into my blood at the sight of her, the knowledge that in a few moments she would be pressed up against me, wrapped in blankets and my arms.

            “Go on in the bathroom and get changed, darlin’,” I whispered, trying not to let the heat rushing through me latch on to the desire to do more than just sleep. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

            She looked back at me over her shoulder as she slipped into the bathroom. As soon as the door shut, I let loose a breath that had grown stale in my lungs. There was a sudden anxiety blistering in my entire body. My thoughts could barely get past the idea of holding her tight against me, skin on skin, the sound of her sighing my name as we became man and wife in truth.

            It was all I could do to will away a hard on as I stripped down to my boxers and climbed into the bed. The sheets were crisp and cool. I imagined them wrinkled and warm with body heat.

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 1:45 PM_

            Dean’s arm held me close against his chest. His heart beat a steady drum beneath my ear, soothing me to near euphoria. I luxuriated in the feel of his body next to mine—the solidness of muscle, the rough rasp of calloused skin, the heat of his limbs. It was like being lost in an infinite forest with the sensation of the earth all around—this grounding, central thing that was everywhere and nowhere at once.

            “What happens now?” I whispered.

            His chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Whatever you want, Mera.” His fingers slipped through my hair, nails scratching my scalp. I let out a faint purr of happiness. “We can stay here in this bed all day, have room service, and then disappear until the next show. We can do anything.”

            I let my mind linger on the idea of staying in bed with him. The chance to explore the body of the man who I now called my husband was more than appealing. Electricity spiraled up my spine as I thought about the possibilities.

            Dean sat up, his back resting against the padded headboard, dragging me with him. The next moment found me straddling his lap, only the thin material of the sheet between us. His blue eyes turned sapphire and navy as they traveled over the length of me. My hair fell over one shoulder, and he tucked it behind my ear. The way he looked at me, his hazelnut locks mussed, his gaze like a physical touch, it made me weak inside.

            “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, his palm settled against my cheek. His thumb brushed the fullness of my bottom lip, dipped along my chin, beneath my jaw. There was something in his gaze that was haunting and wonderful.

            “Dean…”

            He shook his head, quieting whatever I might have said. Silence settled for a moment, then shifted with his bright smile.

            “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

            I quirked a brow, leaning into his touch.

            His lips turned upward in a smirk, his dimples showing. “Don’t ask. It’s a surprise.”

 

_Dean, Afternoon, 2:20 PM_

            I gave the cab driver an address in one of the neighborhoods outside the tourist-ridden part of the city. My leg bounced with anxiety as we sped away from the hotel, Mera sitting next to me, our fingers entwined. The further we got from the strip, the more I mulled over the reality of our situation, the more I let the truest parts of me come through. There was the Dean Ambrose everyone saw in the ring, and then there was the one who was just a messed-up kid from Ohio.

            That was the man I was as I sat next to Mera in that cab. The man who had once been a boy afraid of being abandoned, who scratched and clawed to just make it out of the neighborhood alive. I hadn’t even finished high school. She had two degrees and carried herself like she came from something safe and wholesome.

            The man that I was grew more terrified with every moment. I loved her with every fiber of my being. Since the moment I’d laid eyes on her, there was nothing I could do to get her out of my mind or to keep her out of my heart. Even when she had been off limits—the woman on my brother’s arm, his childhood sweetheart—I hadn’t given up the love I felt for her. I’d held it inside, let it drive me through every breath, a desperation to make myself into a man who deserved her—even if I could never have her.

            “Dean?” Her voice came from somewhere far away. She came into focus, looking up at me with those haunting eyes with worry creasing her brow. “Are you okay?”

            I forced a smile, drew her hand up to my mouth, let my lips linger over her knuckles. “Just thinking.”

            She opened her mouth, closed it again. Warmth radiated from her body as she curled against my shoulder. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she stated plainly, sweetness in her tone.

            A genuine smile settled on my face. Somehow she knew what to say to assuage the fear that gripped my heart. It was as if this woman had been formed for me—the softness for my ragged edges, the care for my recklessness, a guiding star for my nomadic soul.

            “We’re here,” I said before I could delve too deeply into the thoughts crowding my mind.

            I paid the driver, spilled out to the sidewalk. The Nevada sun was high overhead, bright against the concrete and stucco. Heat shimmered above the pavement. It was the dry heat of a desert day, broken only by the oases of shaded porches and in-ground pools. Mera slipped her hand into the crook of my arm as I lead her up a narrow driveway to a two-story house set back from the road.

            The house was made of sand-colored brick with a red terra-cotta roof. A balcony edged in white banister looked out over the street. Verdant grass and a dotting of palm trees made up the front lawn. The double garage was shut tight.

            I dug a set of keys from my pocket as we walked up to the door. It was painted burgundy with a brass knocker, white decorative shudders on either side. My breath hitched in my chest as I turned the key, pushed the door inward. Before I could let myself think twice, I swept her from her feet. Her arms went around my neck.

            The question was clear in her eyes. I took a breath, grinned sheepishly.

            “I closed on it last week.” My feet moved, carrying us both over the threshold. “Welcome home, Mrs. Ambrose.”

            She looked around the foyer. The house was devoid of furniture and had the sharp scent of fresh paint. There was new carpet, hardwood, tile. A remodeled kitchen and a new wall around the back garden with its patio and pool. It was the kind of place I imagined living the rest of my life in, growing old within these walls. And I wanted to live those years with her.

            “That is… if you want it to be.”

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 2:41 PM_

            It was bare, but beautiful. Everything about it radiated the same aura that came from Dean. There was nothing extraneous… even if it had been fully furnished, I had the feeling that everything would be just like him. Laid back comfort without a desire to be glitzy or overdone. After all, for someone who made the kind of money he did, the place was downright small.

            Silence stretched out, my eyes taking in every part of the house that I could see from Dean’s embrace. It was so light and airy inside, the walls painted with a color that seemed somewhere between off-white and faint grey. The carpet in the front room was watered slate and looked brand new. Polished hardwood led off down the hall toward what I assumed was the kitchen. A set of stairs led up to the second floor behind a long wooden counter, shelves sitting empty behind it.

            “You don’t have to… I know it’s a lot…” Dean stammered. I could feel his hummingbird heart against my chest.

            I took a quick inventory, began making a mental checklist. “It’ll take us forever to move in here. We’re on the road so much and my stuff is all in Florida. And how much space is there upstairs? Coordinating all of our furniture… it’s going to take months, Dean.”

            Slowly, he lowered me to my feet. He brushed his fingers along the side of my face, tucked my hair behind my ear. Hope burned in his bright blue eyes. Dimples popped into being as he smiled.

            “You mean it?”

            I met his grin with one of my own. “It’s you and me against the world, remember?”


	11. Chapter 10: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Chapter 10: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

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_Dean, Evening, 6:45 PM_

            Luckily, I had a decent enough outfit. On the way back to the hotel from my—our—new house, I’d gotten it into my head that I needed to take my new wife out on a real date. Dinner and drinking with half the roster and a coffee that ended in a fistfight wasn’t exactly the most romantic or best way to start a life together. I’d promised something nice, but not fancy. After all, I’d been living out of a suitcase for the better part of a week. There wasn’t much in there that was still clean.

            I made sure that my shirt was ironed and that the one jacket I had was clean. Nerves made me nitpick every piece of my reflection. I was determined to make this a night to remember for Mera.

            Ten minutes before I was supposed to pick her up at her room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror. Dark tailored slacks and a white collared shirt. Hair turned into something that looked presentable.

            On a whim, I put on some cologne before I headed out the door to pick up my bride.

 

_Mera, Evening, 6:45 PM_

            The thought of spending an evening alone with Dean was exhilarating. I’d seen him dressed up at major events before, but this was something different. This time, there was no quiet longing, no watching and wishing. Whenever I saw him that night, it would be as mine. My date and my husband.

            I took special care with my makeup and hair. I carefully chose my clothes from what I had left in my suitcase. As the time for him to pick me up drew closer, I felt my pulse rise. It was like being a teenager again—although I refused to think about who had stirred those feelings originally.

            A spritz of perfume and a final glance in the mirror, and I was ready.

 

_Dean, Evening, 7:00 PM_

            I knocked on the door, ignoring the fact that my palms were starting to sweat. My heart hammered in my chest, anticipation flooding into my veins as my brain tried to conjure up the path the night might take. I took a deep breath and tugged on my shirt cuffs.

            When the door swung open, I felt my soul leave my body. It was more than just the sight of her. It was the scent of her, the heat of her skin, the pure glory of her presence. Each time I came near her, I was reminded anew that she was breathtakingly beautiful and that she held my heart in the palm of her hands.

            Her hair fell down her back in soft curls. Silver lined her eyes, made the shades of gold and copper flash in her irises. Her lips were pink and coral, something about them looking like petals coated in morning dew. She wore a dark grey dress that seemed to hug every curve from collarbone to knees, where black leggings took over and ended at a pair of grey flats. The white linen jacket made her look…

            “Stunning,” I murmured, unable to look away from her. Everything about her screamed class and beauty and perfection. Tried to remind me that I wasn’t anywhere near her league.

            Mera tucked hair behind her ear as she pulled the door closed. Heat burned in my limbs as she reached out and smoothed down the collar of my shirt and worked the top button free. She grinned.

            “I’ve never seen you completely buttoned up if you didn’t have to wear a tie, Dean,” she said teasingly. “Don’t change that on my account.”

            I slipped my hand into hers, threading our fingers together. “If I’d had a tie, I’d be wearing one. Even if I hate the damn things.”

            She laughed. It was like lightning and sweet summer nights and that feeling of an open road and no restrictions. I could get drunk on it. Hell, I think I could have survived on nothing but that.

            “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice a little breathy.

            I fought down the urge to turn around, take her right back to her room, and worship between her thighs for the rest of the night. She deserved everything wonderful in the world, and I would do my best to give it to her.

            “It’s a surprise,” I replied, drawing her hand up to my lips. “I just hope you like Italian.”

 

_Mera, Evening, 7:25 PM_

I watched the desert go by as Dean drove out from the Strip. The sky was growing dark, deep blue velvet spreading over the horizon with pinpricks of stars shining through. Brief moments from the night before flashed through my mind—standing beneath the stars in Dean’s arms, the wind blowing through my hair.

            “When we have some time to ourselves, I’m going to bring you out to Red Rock during the day. It’s one of the most beautiful places on the planet.” He glanced over at me, a half smile on his face. “How do you feel about hiking?”

            I grinned. “I’ve never been.”

            He gave me a shocked expression then laughed. “I’ll have to fix that, then. We’ll have to get you all decked out.”

            “I’d like that.” I reached over to brush my fingers through his hair. My heart skipped a beat when he leaned against my hand. He was truly mine. It was both wonderful and terrifying to have someone who so completely owned my entire heart and soul.

 

_Dean, Evening, 8:30 PM_

            Soft music filtered through the speakers as we ate. She laughed at my jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. She talked me into splitting a plate of chicken parmesan when she finished her primavera and found herself still hungry. We drank a bottle of wine and talked about what might come next.

            The staff had cleared away an area of tables and chairs for a makeshift dance floor. Couples were starting to gather and sway slowly to the music, and I caught sight of Mera watching them with longing. Her face was wistful, something soft and sad in her eyes.

            Not for the first time, I wondered the truth of how thoroughly Seth had broken her heart. He had been my friend for years, but it seemed there were certain things it was time for him to answer for.

            Pushing the thought away, I stood and rounded the table toward her. She looked up at me with hope filling her amber eyes.

            “Dance with me?” I tried desperately to keep the nervousness from my voice. I held out my hand, waiting.

            She smiled like the blazing midday sun as she stood to join me. Her fingers settled against my palm. I closed my hand around them, thumb stroking her knuckles gently. I lead the way toward the dance floor with her hovering closely at my side.

            I gathered her into my arms—one hand resting on her waist, the other holding her hand over my heart. She slipped an arm around my neck and beamed at me as we swayed clumsily.

            “I’m not very good at this,” I mumbled, too embarrassed to look at her. It was one more reminder that she was far too good for me, that I was playing at being a prince when all I really could claim was to be the pauper.

            Mera brushed her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. Her touch sent liquid heat burning through my blood. “I think you’re doing wonderfully.”

            Her words filled me with pride at being hers. I was overwhelmed again with the desperate need to make her happy, to give her each and everything that she could ever desire in life. She was the whole of my desire now—years of loving her from afar come to light, the full driving force of my life, the deity to whom I pledged my everlasting soul. Perfection was her smile, the sound of her voice, the feel of her in my arms and the scent of her skin. There was nothing more that I could want in life if I had her by my side.

            “I love you, Dean,” she whispered, eyes meeting mine. “No matter how we got here, I’m happy we did.”

            I pressed my lips to her forehead, letting the kiss linger. I breathed in the scent of her—a mix of black cherry and something else. The feral thing in my chest purred with contentment. Everything about her tamed and roused that beast within me all at once. It was a power she had over me, a power that I would give her gladly with the last breath in my body.

            “Stay with me,” I murmured, voice rough and deep. “Let me make you happy.”

            She smiled. It was a glorious thing. Like looking into a supernova. When she rose up onto her toes and kissed me, I couldn’t help but groan in response. I wrapped my arms around her, lifted her from her feet, kissed her with as much fervor as I dared with a hundred eyes all around.

            “Take me back to the hotel, Dean,” she breathed against my ear.

            How on earth could I say no?

 

_Mera, Evening, 8:45 PM_

            I couldn’t believe my own courage. Dean had given me such a wonderful night, and he looked so wonderful. He was more than I could ever have asked for, more than I had ever dreamed I would have in a man at my side. I loved him so completely that it burned in every cell of my body.

            In that moment, more than anything, I wanted to show him how thoroughly I loved him. How truly happy he made me simply by existing, by breathing the same air, by brushing his fingers against my skin and smiling at me with his dimples and cornflower eyes.

            He was my husband, no matter how new. He was mine, and I was his.


	12. Chapter 11: You Got Me into This

Chapter 11: You Got Me into This

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_Dean, Night, 9:38 PM_

            “Your turn,” I whispered, sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of Mera.

            “What was your favorite food as a kid?” She grinned, fingers working quickly through her hair as she braided it. I sighed, wishing that I could bury my face in it again.

            I coughed, clearing my throat. “Real food or junk food?”

            “Real.”

            “My sister used to cook these sausage ball things when we were kids. I don’t know how she learned it, but they were fast and cheap, and they tasted good.” I looked away from her, afraid that she’d see the shame in my face.

            She wriggled out of her leggings, tossing them on the floor behind her. The sight of her long legs made my gut clench. However she’d come up with this little game, it was entertaining and excruciating. Instead of seeing her all at once, I caught glimpses of her skin in snapshots.

            “What’s your happiest memory as a kid?” I asked, swallowing hard to get control of myself.

            Something about her dimmed, like a cloud passing over the sunshine of her soul. I caught my mistake too late. Yet she gave me a small smile and answered. “I remember building snow forts in the backyard in Buffalo. Brandon and Colby used to let me help them put together snow blocks and build igloos when it got so cold that it wasn’t even snow—it was ice. Then the three of us would huddle in our frozen huts and pretend that we were living in Alaska or something.”

            She shrugged, jerked her chin toward me. I yanked off my socks and threw them on the floor. Added my belt to the pile.

            “I’m sorry, Mera,” I whispered, reaching for her. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

            “It’s okay. The last bit of it was miserable, but there were good times. I can’t… I won’t let what he did as an adult color the memories I have as a kid. He wasn’t always that way…” She sniffed, smiled. Brightness came back into her eyes. “Everything that happened… it got me here. It got me to you. And that’s all that matters.”

            I brushed my fingertips against her jaw, watched color race across her cheeks. “It’s your turn.”

            “Did you ever dream about me?” She glanced away, shy.

            My cock twitched, partly at the innocence that radiated off her and partly at the memory of the nights I kept her image in my mind, wishing with all my soul for just one chance to touch her.

            I smirked. “A lot. Every night. Roman used to threaten to make me sleep in the bathtub because of it.”

            Her brow quirked, a question in her gaze. My smirk grew wider. As much as I enjoyed this game, I was more than ready to bed my wife.

 

_Mera, Night, 9:45 PM_

            There was something dark in Dean’s eyes. His voice dropped, the sound of it turning my entire body into one mass of heat. I felt light headed with desire.

            Dean moved closer, his eyes flitting over my face, along the curves and lines of my body. It was a predatory gaze, one that made me want to sink into his arms and give in to anything he wanted.

            “I dreamt so many things about you, Mera Ambrose.” He said my name like a prayer. I shivered as his mouth brushed against my ear. “I dreamt of running my fingers through your hair, of tasting the skin along your neck, of holding you in my arms. I dreamt of the sound you’d make when I kissed you, when I slid my hands along your flesh, when I slid my fingers inside you and made you come. I dreamt of how it would feel to have your bare skin against mine, how it would feel when I finally thrust into you the first time.”

            I let out a sound that was part sigh and part moan. Dean laughed dangerously, his fingers settling against my throat. “That’s the sound I dreamt about. That little sigh right there.”

            “Dean,” I whispered, fire blazing through my veins. There was too much—too much desire, too much anticipation, too much temptation.

            His mouth brushed along the side of my neck, teeth nipping gently. “Say it again.”

            I allowed myself a small smile. “Dean,” I whispered again, my fingers delving into his hair. I turned my head, giving him free access to my throat.

            He growled. In one fluid motion, he gripped me by the hips and flipped so that I was pressed into the mattress beneath him. His fingers flexed, gathering handfuls of my dress and pulling it up. Rough fingertips dragged against my skin, searching up my thighs, gripping the band of my underwear and dragging them down my legs. I whimpered when he grabbed me by the ankles and tugged me toward the end of the bed.

            “Say it again,” he murmured, kneeling and drawing me closer. He hooked my legs over his shoulders.

            I opened my mouth to speak just as he swept his tongue along my core. My voice came out in a breathy whimper. “Dean!”

            His growl rumbled through me as he did his best to undo me with his mouth. Fingers gripped my thighs, stroked up my ribs, reached for me, threaded with my own. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t think about anything but the feel of his hands on my body and his tongue doing such wonderful things.

            I bucked against his ministrations. At once, I couldn’t handle another second and never wanted it to end. My head thrashed side to side, back arching, heart pounding. I squealed, whimpered, cried out his name… begged him to give me release, to never stop.

            “Dean, please!”

 

_Dean, Night, 9:58 PM_

            She whimpered, she begged. Every sound that passed her lips branded my soul, spurred that feral creature in my chest on. It was as if something primal took over, demanded that I bring her to the brink of pleasure over and over again.

            When she came, it was beautiful. She spun out of control, the fibers holding her together shredding apart as the atoms of her body spread through the cosmos. Mera sank into the mattress, limbs splayed and limp. I smirked, pride swelling my chest.

            I climbed onto the bed, smiling as I watched her regain her composure. Her eyes fluttered open, amber shining like brass. A soft smile curved her lips.

            “Mera,” I whispered. I could hear the pure lust in my voice, the desperation to feel her quake around me.

            She looked at me with those eyes, teeth nipping her bottom lip. She rolled to her side, fingers going to the buttons on my shirt. One after the other, she undid them deftly. Her nails scratched against my chest, earning a growl that rumbled through my chest. I hissed when those fingers hooked into the waistband of my pants. My darling bride slid her hand into my boxers, wrapping those beautiful fingers around my cock.

            “Fuck,” I groaned as her fingers squeezed and stroked.

            She tugged my pants and boxers down. There was a wicked gleam in her eye when she crawled up onto her knees. The next moment, she straddled my hips. I fought down the urge to thrust up into her. Instead, I rubbed my thumbs along her thighs, groaning as she rolled her hips back and forth.

            Mera leaned forward, palms on either side of my head as she found the perfect position. Her hips rocked, my cock slid inside her, and it was all I could do to keep myself in check. She smiled wickedly as she sat up, watching me as she moved in a slow, agonizing pace.

            Her hair fell over her shoulder as she braced herself on my chest. My fingers dug into her hips, begging her to go faster. It was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen—this exquisite goddess straddling my lap and riding me with an expression of sheer ecstasy on her face.

            Her pace quickened, hips grinding against mine as she chased her own orgasm. I growled and grunted, gripped her hips until I was certain she’d have bruises. Every move pushed me closer to the edge. It was a pot boiling—a slow rising of the heat and roiling of water until there was nothing left but to spill over. And with Mera in my arms, her body quivering against me, it was soul-stealing and intoxicating.


	13. Chapter 12: Situation Lost Control

Chapter 12: Situation Lost Control

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**_Two Days Later_ **

_Mera, Evening, 7:45 PM_

            We’d left Vegas behind, traveling further west into California for a series of shows. Normally, I only worked the televised events, but one of the other ATs was out and I’d agreed to take his place on the live event circuit. Southern California welcomed me with open arms and bright sunshine. 

            I took care setting up my trainer’s room in the backstage area. I didn’t have my full set of equipment, but it was enough that I could take care of anyone who might need me. There were a few of the superstars that needed to be checked out before they went to the ring. Other than that, it was likely to be a slow night.

            Dean was off somewhere in the arena getting warmed up. We’d arrived together, something that had irked Seth when he realized he was being pushed into riding with someone else. I felt guilty for interrupting the comradery between the two of them—they had been friends since the moment they met in FCW. I’d seen every moment of their friendship, from those wonderful early days when they feuded and fought to their debut on the main roster, the shattering of the Shield, their path to redemption and back to one another. Of course, I’d seen most of it from Seth’s side.

            Looking back, I realized there was so much I missed because I had been so deeply infatuated with the man that I had wanted Seth to be. For years, I tried to convince myself that he was the same Colby that I’d grown up with—the kid I’d watched stage wrestling matches in his front yard, who built snowmen and tree forts and river dams with me—rather than the selfish man he really was. Sometimes it still ached, not because of the romance that fell apart but because of the loss of my dearest childhood friend.

            “Hey,” came Dean’s voice. He leaned against the doorframe, his black shirt accentuating the cut of his body and the shape of his muscles. “Do me a favor?”

            I smiled, sunlight sliding through my veins. Somehow, the last four days had set off a wonderful new normal. It felt as if we had been part of this dance with one another for months or years. We complemented each other in ways that I never thought I would experience.

            “Of course.”

            He crossed the room, fidgeting with his wedding band as he did. When he was within arm’s reach, he slipped the ring from his finger and held it out toward me. “I don’t want to lose this out there. Hold on to it for me?”

            My heart melted in my chest. I reached up, unclasped the necklace that I wore. I let his wedding band slide down the chain, stopping with a faint _clink_ at the charm. Then I put the necklace back on, ensuring that the ring settled near my heart.

            “Maybe we should get you one of those silicon things that Randy has.”

            He made a face as he pulled me gently into his arms. His lips pressed against my hair. “Maybe. We can talk about it later.”

            I settled against him, listening to the sound of his heart. He swayed in that playful way of his, bring a smile to my face.

 

_Dean, Evening, 7:50 PM_

            Having Mera on the road was a selfish sort of joy. It was remarkable to wake up in the hotel with her in my arms, her sunlight and honey hair spread out on the pillows. She would stretch and mumble her good mornings in a sleepy voice. Her body curved into mine, her warmth seeping into me, smoothing the rough edges of my soul into something worthy of her. It was a gift—her presence in my world like this—and it was a one that I didn’t want to leave so soon.

            Before, I had been forced to subsist on sightings of her in passing each week. A glimpse as I passed the trainer’s room. A faint greeting as we passed in catering. But this… this was her presence fully and completely. It was seeing her each morning and each night. It was watching her sleep in the passenger seat while I drove to the next down. It was falling exhausted into bed with her at the end of the night, fighting down the urge to make love before falling asleep.

            “This weekend… you want to head back to Red Rock?” I murmured against her hair, holding her against my chest. Holding her was a sensation of which I could never tire. “We can figure out some stuff for the house and go hiking.”

            She wrapped her arms around my waist, locking her fingers together. “I was thinking of trying to get things taken care of in Florida. There’s so much I have to do if I’m moving to Vegas with you.”

            I let out a hum of understanding. “Then we’re going to Florida this weekend. I’ll get flights after we get to the hotel.”

            “You don’t have to, Dean.”

            My fingers brushed through the soft waves of her hair as I stooped down to look at her. “Darlin’, I know I don’t _have_ to. I _want_ to. Spending time with you anywhere is worth whatever manual labor you put me through.”

            She smiled, her face going rosy and her eyes fading bronze. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

            “Sure do,” I replied. “As much as I know that I love you with every cell in my body.”

            “Shit,” came a voice from behind us, “I don’t remember the sex being _that_ good. But, you know, maybe she’s gotten better since I had her.”

I turned, saw that Seth stood in the doorway, glaring in at the two of us. My stomach dropped even as that beast roared in my chest. It arose in fury, desperate to protect and defend the woman in my arms. It coiled, ready to spring, desperate to lash out at the man who I considered my brother.

I pressed a kiss to Mera’s forehead, whispering softly to her. “I love you. I’ll handle him.”

She blinked, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Blind rage fed the primal beast inside me. Her tears were enough to make me want to rip the world apart to punish everything that had ever upset her.

Turning toward my tag partner, I tried to rein in my instinct to swing first and talk later. I took one deep breath after another. “First, mind your business,” I tossed out firmly. “Second, I thought I told you to keep her name out of your filthy mouth.”

Seth took a step toward me, his chest puffed out. He looked like a boy trying too hard to be a man. “And I thought friends didn’t fuck their buddy’s ex.”

It was an effort to resist the urge to simply punch him and walk away. He was my brother, my friend. But Mera was my wife, and she mattered more than anything now.

“What do you want me to do to? Apologize? For what exactly? Help me out here, Rollins.”

He scoffed. “Help you? Man, you’re the one who’s picked up my leftovers. There’s no helping that.”

I stepped to him, toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose. “That’s my _wife_ you’re talking about, Rollins. So I’d watch your mouth if I were you.”

He started to laugh, but stopped as the words started to make sense. “ _Wife_? Are you _fucking_ kidding me? I know for a fact she’s not that good in bed, Ambrose.”

 

_Mera, Night, 8:00 PM_

            Every word out of Seth’s mouth was a knife slipped between my ribs, twisted until it ripped my being into shreds. If I had held any hope that he was the same person I’d known, he had killed them with the way he spoke to Dean. There was such venom and contempt in his voice. It was so hard to reconcile the man who called me names and insulted me in such crass ways with the one I’d grown up with, fallen in love with, built my whole life around as a young woman.

            Tears burned my eyes, blurring my vision. I turned away from the two of them, gasping for breath as I tried desperately to stop the tears from coming. The last thing I wanted was to let Seth know that his words still meant something, that he had the power to hurt me even after all this time.

            “I swear to God, Rollins, if you insult or upset Mera one more time…” Dean growled. His voice was rough and filled with rage and anger. “It’s not her fault that you’re a selfish dick who couldn’t see a good woman when she was two feet from your face.”

            “Mera’s been a ring rat since we were kids. That’s not gonna change.”

            There was a scuffle, a heavy thud, the sound of fists against flesh. I turned to find Seth pinned up against the wall, blood on his bottom lip and trickling down into his beard from a gash on his cheek. There were gashes across Dean’s knuckles.

            “Get your shit together,” Dean snarled at his brother. “I don’t want to choose, but if you force this—I’ll choose her without question _every_ time.”


	14. Chapter 13: Information Overload

Chapter 13: Information Overload

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**That Weekend**

_Mera, Late Morning, 10:47 AM_

            I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this exhausted. There had been the drive from Southern California back to Las Vegas to drop Dean’s car at the house. Then, there was the struggle of getting a straight shot flight from Vegas to Orlando on short notice. The last twelve hours had been a rush of movement and travel with hardly a moment of down time. And I hadn’t had a comfortable moment of sleep either.

            My entire body ached as I pulled my suitcase from the luggage carousel. Dean grabbed his bags and started piling them together like Tetris blocks. I stood nearby, nearly dead on my feet, trying desperately to stay upright.

            He glanced at me, something flickering in his cornflower eyes. “C’mon, Mera,” he said softly, reaching out to take my hand. “Let’s get you home. You look like you could use a nap.”

            I let him lead me through the terminal toward the taxis lined up outside. Silence settled between us making me feel guilty. I was grumpy and tired. Traveling so much was so out of the norm for me that it made me want to scream to think about doing all this again in two days.

            Dean packed our luggage into the trunk of the taxi as I climbed inside. I gave the driver my address and leaned against the window, wishing desperately for my own shower and my own bed. When he climbed into the seat beside me, Dean pulled me gently into his arms, settling me against his chest. As we left the airport, he pressed a kiss against my hair. “Go to sleep, darlin’. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

 

_Dean, Late Morning, 11:18 AM_

            Mera looked so miserable that it broke my heart. She’d gotten a few hours’ sleep in the car on the drive back to Las Vegas, but that was it. By the time we’d gotten our laundry taken care of, luggage packed, and flights booked, she was on edge and unable to relax. The trip hadn’t been easy on her, and I felt guilty for begging her to fill in for the road AT. I’d wanted to keep her with me, to enjoy a few more days of the bliss that I felt when she was nearby, but I hadn’t thought of how unaccustomed to the road schedule she might be.

            She curled against my side, head lolling against my shoulder as we drove. It didn’t take long for me to recognize where we were headed. Most of the people who worked at the Performance Center lived in the outlying areas. Some of the medical staff lived in nicer areas closer to the building, while most of the talent lived in cheaper places with one or two other people. Mera lived in the Ballencia Apartment complex. One of the nicer areas. Better than the rathole I lived in when I first came to Florida.

            When we pulled up at the address, I was loathe to rouse her from the first sleep she’d had in nearly a day. I half thought that I might get the driver to bring in the bags while I carried her into the apartment, but I didn’t know which one was hers and had no clue where she’d packed her keys.

            “Mera, we’re here,” I whispered, shaking her gently. “Help me get you inside and you can go to bed.”

            She grunted angrily but sat up, thrusting her wallet at me. Her finger jabbed at me, then at the driver. I took it to mean she wanted me to pay him with her card or the cash she had inside. Instead, I stuffed it in my pocket and dug my own wallet out of my pocket. I handed over some cash—ten bucks over the price on the meter—then got out to grab the bags.

            “You get the keys and go inside. I’ll bring the stuff.” I brushed my fingers against her cheek and smiled. “Just tell me which one it is.”

            She dug a set of keys from the front pocket of her suitcase and pointed to the bottom left apartment. As she trotted off, I hauled the luggage from the trunk. I swore, the sticky heat reminding me why I preferred Vegas to Orlando. The temperature I could handle. The humidity killed me.

 

_Mera, Midday, 12:04 PM_

            _Sleep. Sleep. Sleep._

            I tossed my keys on the coffee table, shed my jacket and threw it over the back of the chair, kicked off my shoes somewhere by the door. All I wanted was my bed. I didn’t care that I felt sweaty and gritty from the plane. Sleep was all that mattered.

            Once in the bedroom, I tugged off my jeans and bra. I flipped back the covers and crawled beneath in nothing but my t-shirt and panties. The air conditioning buzzed lightly in the background, the white noise and cool air lulling me quickly into sleep.

 

_Dean, Midday, 12:04 PM_

            I pushed the door closed behind me, made sure that it was locked. Her apartment was small, beige painted walls and wood laminate floors. There were accents of Mera everywhere I looked. I wondered how long she’d been there, how much of this place was somewhere for her to hide from the things that had happened to her.

            I left the bags by the kitchen counter and rounded in to get to the fridge. I tugged it open, grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down, enjoying the cool air that poured out from the AC.

            Only then did I go in search of my wife.

            There weren’t many places to look. I found her in the bedroom, curled up in a cocoon of blankets. She looked so blissful, finally in some comfort with the ability to rest for a few well-earned hours. I smiled as I tossed off my jacket and kicked off my jeans before crawling in beside her.

            She shifted toward me, burrowed against my chest and tucking an arm over my stomach. I closed my eyes, letting my lips linger against her forehead, promising deep in my soul that I would never give her cause to cry.

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 2:26 PM_

            Jet lag found me as I roused from sleep. It took me a few moments to realize that I was at home in my own bed. Sitting up, I stretched, caught sight of the jacket hanging off the doorknob. Noise filtered in from the living room. It was the sound of the television and someone talking over it. When Dean’s voice registered, I couldn’t help but smile.

            I rolled out of bed and padded out into the living room. Dean was standing at the stove in just his jeans, a towel thrown over one shoulder, a skillet on one burner sizzling with bacon and another frying eggs. There were cartoons on the television—something about a panda, a polar bear, and a brown bear.

            “Are you watching cartoons, Dean?”

            He turned toward me, a sideways smile on his face as he waved a spatula in my face. “Hey, don’t trash We Bare Bears. Ice Bear gives some good advice.”

            I slid into place beside him, my fingers brushing the small of his back. He wrapped one arm around my head, pulled me in and gave me a kiss on the hair.

            “There wasn’t a whole lot in the fridge, but I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up. And I didn’t know where your take-out menus were.”

            “This looks perfect,” I murmured, leaning against his side.

            A shadow passed over his face, something that made his easy-going smile turn sad and melancholy. I frowned, fingers reaching up to touch his cheek. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

            With a sigh, he sat the spatula on the counter and turned toward me. His hands wrapped around mine, thumbs skimming over my knuckles. “Is something wrong? Are you all right?”

            “What’re you talking about?”

            He pulled me close, holding me with tender care. “You were crying in your sleep.”

 

_Dean, Afternoon, 2:27 PM_

            Mera watched me as if I’d discovered some horrible secret. I felt the tremor go through her body, an ache that seemed to shatter her ability to stay on her feet.

            “You’re exhausted, darlin’,” I soothed, drawing her against my chest, trailing my fingers through her tangled hair, separating the soft curls from their knots. “You’ve had a wild week.”

            A soft smile crossed her face. It was heartbreaking in its beauty and its sadness. I let myself sink into the promise I’d made her—the oath that I would do everything I possibly could to help her find happiness and peace, to be by her side through every step of her life. My lips ghosted along the top of her head, her brow, along her cheeks.

            “I can hold it together pretty well most of the time,” she mumbled. “But sometimes…”

            I rocked her gently, trying to find the right words. There was so much that I didn’t know, so many quiet fears and specters that I couldn’t anticipate. I wanted to protect her from every pain or terror that might seep into her world. She was the beat of my heart, the breath in my lungs, the very thing in my soul that kept my body in motion. What more could I do to the goddess of my life than to protect her with every ounce of strength I possessed?

            “Whenever you’re ready,” I breathed against her hair, “whenever you decide you want to talk, I’ll listen. It’s us together now, remember? Whatever burdens you carry, whatever pain you have, I want to carry it with you. However you want me to.”


	15. Chapter 14: Send Out an S.O.S.

Chapter 14: Send Out an S.O.S.

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**_The Following Monday Night_ **

_Mera, Evening, 7:45 PM_

            The trainer’s room was where it always was, and my things were spread out exactly as I preferred them. All my necessary tools were within arm’s reach, easy to access should any of the superstars need my help. I was never part of the scripted trainer visits—they kept me in reserve for those who were really injured. For the most part, even the fans knew that when I came to the ring, something was really wrong.

            I spent a lot of time alone in that room most nights. Sure, there were the times when someone got a little overzealous and either hurt themselves or someone else. But for the most part, I was just there to deal with general sports injuries and required stretching from their physical therapists. Right before matches, there was a steady trickle of superstars. Sometimes right after if someone just needed help with a locked-up muscle.

            Otherwise… it was just me and four walls. I kept books with me, so sometimes I would read. Sometimes I had notes or medical records to update for some of the superstars who I saw on a regular basis. Most of the time, thought, it was just my thoughts and me.

            With a major pay-per-view coming up, the higher ups were being more careful about the health of their superstars who were set to be big draws. Seth was on the books as going after the Universal Championship at Wrestlemania, so everyone was being particularly careful about his knee and his back.

            Which meant he was required to see me before and after his matches from now until Wrestlemania was over. _Great_ , I thought, looking at the note in his medical chart. _Just great_.

            I thought back to the Seth I knew as a kid—back when everyone called him Colby or Brandon’s little brother. He had been so sweet and kind. In high school, he was charming and smart. He’d loved wrestling, putting on shows in his front yard with his friends, covering his basement bedroom in a thousand different names and slogans. But there had been a time—when he was Tyler Black in the ring and Colby everywhere else—when we’d been inseparable. When he’d wanted nothing more than to have me at his side, chasing that dream with him.

            We graduated high school. I went to college, fast-tracking through an athletic training program—doing homework by flashlight driving from town to town on the weekends to watch him compete. Forty-thousand dollars of debt to get a degree and a certification to do a job that guaranteed I could be with him wherever he went. Independent wrestling companies didn’t always have fantastic care for their athletes, and I was an added bonus that came along when someone signed Tyler Black. And those hadn’t been bad days.

            Crappy apartments, cheap hotels, food that was never that good and half the time cold, long drives and late nights. That had been my life from 18 to 29—eleven years of following him across the world with one company after the other. WWE had made it a little easier with better pay, a nicer apartment, more stability. But it had also created Seth Rollins. He was cocky, self-assured, and selfish. Even though he wore the same face as my childhood Colby, it had been Seth who had ripped my heart into pieces.

            Someone knocked on the door. I glanced at my watch, realized that it must have been him. His match started in forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for me to give him a decent once over to ensure that nothing was of concern before he got in the ring. And, hopefully, it could be quick enough that we didn’t have to talk much.

            I crossed the room, opened the door. Seth stood there with that annoyingly cocky look on his face, already dressed out in his gear. I fought down the pounding of my heart, the nausea that burned in my throat. “You know the drill,” I said, emotionless as he passed close by.

            He hopped up on the table, flopping on to his stomach. I sighed and rubbed my hands together to warm them. It was best to just get this over with as fast as possible.

            “Any pain today?” The words came out flat. For just about everyone else, I had a pretty good bedside manner. For Seth, it was all about getting him in and out without too many insults and tears.

            “Tight on the left. You know how it gets sometimes,” he said with a knowing something in his voice. He turned his head toward me, pillowing his cheek on his crossed forearms. “Too much strain, you know.”

            I forced my thoughts away from memories of the things throughout the years had triggered his aching back. “Tell me when it hurts.”

 

_Dean, Evening, 7:55 PM_

            I cracked my knuckles, swung my arms to warm up my shoulders. I wasn’t scheduled until the second hour of the show, and I wanted to sit with Mera for a while. It was amazing to me that she had become so perfectly integrated into my life that her presence made me feel calm in a way that nothing did.

            As I came down the hallway, I could hear her voice from the trainer’s room. Her tone was even, yet something seemed off. She sounded carefully controlled, clipped. I knew the rules—don’t go into the trainer’s room when someone else was already there—privacy and all that. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t wait outside just in case.

            “Use the heat before and after on the back. Rest it twenty-four hours between every exertion. That means matches or workouts. You need to spread it out so that you can even make it to Wrestlemania.”

            It took a moment for the response to come. When it did, my blood ran cold. The beast in my chest roared, desperate to get into the room, to keep her safe, to protect her heart.

            “What was that treatment you used to do?” The words themselves were innocent, but I knew there was something more to his intent. “It used to work so well.”

            “Call a masseuse,” she snapped back. “That’s not part of my job.”

            _Breathe_ , I told that primal thing inside me. It writhed in anger and sheer protective instinct. It was like it could sense her discomfort. I watched the door, wishing I could see through it. She was capable, intelligent, and stronger than any woman I’d ever met, and yet all I could think to do was to do everything I could to protect her from even the simplest pain.

            The room went quiet. I paced, the worst possible scenarios playing through my mind.

            “They never know how to do it. It’s either too much or not enough pressure. You’ve always been able to fix it,” Seth said in a tone that sounded both pouting and deceiving. “This is my big shot, Mera. Help me out here.”

            Her visage floated into my mind. I could see the way her liquid gold eyes blurred with guilt, how she might look at him with her lips pressed into a line, her face a mask of discomfort and unhappiness. I’d watched her long enough to know how her emotions played over her features, how her sadness, pain, and shame could bend her into someone that gave away her best self to cater to another.

            I knew there were tears in her eyes when she spoke. Just as I knew the answer before she even gave it. “Okay.”  

            The primal thing in my chest surprised me with the ferocity of its jealousy. It dug in, tried to drive me to bust through the door, to drag her away and remind her that she was mine and I was hers.

            It took nearly every ounce of my will to keep myself in control. My feet picked up their pacing, taking me further away from the trainer’s room. It was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her privacy. Mera was my wife, regardless of how long it had been. There was nothing within me that could distrust her.

            Seth Rollins was another story. In the last week, I’d seen my tag partner and brother in a new light—as a man who was self-centered, self-absorbed, and selfish. While I didn’t know the details of their relationship, I had pieced together enough to know that Seth had broken her heart completely. The fact that he seemed to be using their history to get what he wanted made my blood run cold.

 

_Mera, Evening, 8:14 PM_

            I washed my hands in the sink, making sure to scrub the Icy-Hot from my fingers. The tremble that ran through them made me feel sick, stomach turning over as I tried to get myself under control. I hated the way that old feelings came rushing back with the memories of caring for Seth back when he had been Colby and Tyler. Some part of me—a traitorous corner of my heart that reveled in masochism it seemed—still thought there was some good in him, a piece of the old version of the man that I’d known.

            My back was turned to Seth as he pulled his shirt back on. The rustle of cloth and the creaking of the padded table let me know that he was up and moving. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dried my hands aggressively, hoping to hide their shaking. As I tossed them in the trash can, I stepped over to the WWE-issued laptop with the superstar’s medical records on it.

            “Knee looks good. Heat on the back twice a day, 20 minutes each time. Strenuous activity only every other day, Monday through Saturday. Full rest on _every_ off day until the match,” I said over my shoulder, already pulling up his medical chart. Once those directions were in his record, booking would have no choice but to go easy on him—perhaps easier than they already were.

            Footsteps scuffed across the floor. Flesh met metal, then a heavy sigh. “You know Vegas weddings aren’t binding after 30 days, don’t you? Didn’t Dean tell you?”

            The door whined on its hinges. The sound of it thudding back against the frame echoed the weight that slammed against my heart. Every fiber of my being suddenly yearned for Dean, to confess everything that I felt—the confusion and fear. I tried desperately to push away the seed that Seth had tried to plant. After all, Dean and I had already talked about having a _real_ ceremony of some fashion.

            I felt my throat close with tears as I realized there was a ticking clock on our marriage.

 

_Dean, Evening, 8:20 PM_

            I watched from down the hall as Seth walked away from the trainer’s room. There was a smirk on his face that made me wonder what I’d missed while I’d let my feet carry me around the backstage area. That beast inside me roared, sent adrenaline flooding my veins, screaming commands to find and protect what was mine.

            Reaching for the door, I heard her sobs. The door banged against the wall as I swept her into my arms. My fingers tangled in her hair. Silently, I swore. _I’m going to slaughter him_.


	16. Chapter 15: Don't Blame Me

Chapter 15: Don’t Blame Me

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_Seth, Evening, 8:30 PM_

            My stomach churned. _Every fucking time_ , I thought angrily. _Every single goddamn time that I think it’s all together—it fucking falls apart. Again_.

            Jaw clenched, suddenly roaring for an opportunity to let out the rage and aggression that swept through me, I went stalking down the hallway toward the producer’s office. If I didn’t beat the shit out of someone in the ring soon, I was going to rip someone’s head off for real.

            _Why Dean_? I thought, not caring that I slammed shoulder-first into half a dozen people as I walked. _I could handle anybody but Dean. Not him._

 

_Dean, Evening, 8:30 PM_

            Mera curled against my chest, her quiet tears slowly drying. She let me hold her as she calmed. My fingers smoothed through her honeycomb tresses. I whispered into her ear words that I don’t remember, but I know they were promises of a better future. One with less tears and more joy.

            When she was at last calm enough to breathe without whimpering, I guided her to a stool by the padded table. She sank into it weakly, as if her legs could no longer keep her upright. The instinct in my chest was to rage, to lash out in every way that meant she would be protected and safe. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt, and yet here she was. Aching so deeply within her heart that I couldn’t hope to understand, let alone fix it.

            “What hap—” I began. The words got tied together on my tongue, sucked back into my brain, replaced with something that felt altogether more appropriate. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

            Mera stared at the tiled floor between her shoes. Silence seemed the only sound as time ticked slowly by. I let my hand rest on her shoulder as I crouched down beside her, waiting… ready to take as much time as she needed. Willing to do whatever she asked just to see her smile again.

            “Are we really married, Dean?”

            The question came out of nowhere. It hit me like a club to the chest, sent me into a tailspin of emotions. Confusion. Fear. Doubt. Hurt. Everything was flying around my head at once, so quickly that there was no chance of catching and figuring it out.

            I took a breath, focused on the gold and copper flecks in her eyes. “Yes. Why would you…” I closed my eyes, struggling to push down the anger. “What did he say?”

            She finally looked up at me, a fear in her eyes so deep that it nearly broke me. “That a Vegas marriage is only good for a month. And we’ve already been through this for two weeks, Dean. If he’s telling the truth, we’ve got two weeks to… I don’t know… jump through whatever hurdles we have to.”

            I brushed my fingers against her cheek. “He’s lying to you, my love. It you want to go to the registry office when we get back to Vegas, we can. Whatever I have to do to prove to you that we _really_ are married.”

            She watched me carefully. I made sure that my face was calm. My thumb stroked gently back and forth on her cheekbone. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice filled with something that seeped into my skin, wrapped around my heart, and began tearing at my soul with razor edges. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Dean. I just… he’s…”

            Her words trailed off. I leaned my forehead against her shoulder, letting my arms wrap around her. “You can talk to me, Mera. Whatever happened, I’m here to listen to you. And I’ll help carry your burdens. It’s part of my job now.”

            Her chest expanded with a deep breath. Then her lips parted, and the words came tumbling out.

 

_Mera, Evening, 8:43 PM_

            Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Dean sank from his crouch onto the concrete floor, legs stretched out in front of him, hand resting on my thigh. His face was open, bright blue eyes watching me with interest and peacefulness.

            I told him the story of growing up in Buffalo, Iowa, just down the street from Colby Lopez. There were memories of setting up tents in backyards and pretending that we were camping in the wild. Memories of swimming and movies and the development of his front-yard wrestling brand. I was honest with him, telling him how I fell desperately in love with him in middle school, how we grew closer in high school. The tears came when I told him how I gave up my dream school and my dream of being a psychologist to go to a school that allowed me to learn from a distance and travel around with Colby as he worked the indie circuit. I never wanted to be an athletic trainer, but I did it because it kept me close to Colby.

            Dean’s brow furrowed. He squeezed my thigh gently, his thumb rubbing against the skin just above my knee. I wanted to stop, to let the rest of the story fall away into the ether so that I didn’t have to tell him. Yet I couldn’t staunch the flow of history that made me who I was.

            “I loved him so much, Dean. I gave up everything I wanted in my life so that I could be with him, so he could chase his dream. When he was on the indies, we were amazing—we saw so much and went so many places and it was fantastic. It was worth it,” I said, feeling my stomach churning, falling closer and closer to the floor. “Then he got picked up by FCW, and then NXT, and finally hit the main roster. When he went from Tyler Black to Seth Rollins… something happened to him. He changed almost from the core of who he was.”

            The hand on my thigh reached for my hand, threaded our fingers together. I sighed. There was so much pain in the rest of our history. The lies. The betrayal. The sheer loss of my sense of self.

            It all came out—the cheating, the affairs, the lies. How Seth broke my heart over and over, how he’d thrown me aside when it suited him, assuming I wouldn’t be upset because I had a good job out of the relationship.

            A deep growl came from Dean, drawing me back into the present. There was fire in his blue eyes, making them crackle like fracturing ice. It was a dangerous glare, full of anger and rage and something more.

            “Dean?”

 

_Dean, Evening, 9:08 PM_

            The sound of her saying my name drew me out of the rage that fed that beast in my chest. I looked up, caught sight of her tear-stained face. My heart felt as if it would shatter in my chest. The light that seemed to radiate from her had dimmed. My wife, the beautiful and bright soul that I fell for that first moment in FCW, had fallen into a sadness and the horror of her broken heart so deeply that I didn’t know how to bring her back from it.

            I stood, my body moving more swiftly than I’d ever experienced. My hands cupped the sides of her face, my forehead resting against hers as I breathed in the scent of her. It was sea spray and honeysuckle and sunshine. God knows she was perfect to me, and to see her so broken nearly shattered me.

            “Mera… I can’t…” My voice caught in my throat. For a moment, I thought I was going to choke. “I can’t begin to understand how much you’re hurting. I don’t know how to help.”

            I forced back my own tears, knowing my discomfort was nothing compared to what she’d experienced. I tamped down the raging desire to find Seth and beat him into a broken and bloody pulp. For whatever it was worth, I knew that it wouldn’t help to heal the pain that weighed Mera down. But it would make the beast within me feel a little better.

            She reached for me. The feel of her fingertips against my cheek soothed the rage within me. I closed my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. She smiled gently.

            “You don’t have to help, Dean,” she murmured, lips against my hair. I sensed her breathing in the scent of my skin. “You. Being with you is more than enough.”

            I stood, drawing her with me until I could cradle her in my arms. She was suddenly so fragile—she reminded me of a glass sculpture, so beautiful, crafted with mastery and elegance, and yet so breakable. Every demon in hell and angel in heaven knew that I would burn the whole world down, that I would rip the universe into shreds to keep her whole and happy.

            There were no words for how desperate I was to keep her from the sadness of her past. I let my fingers twine in her hair, tilting her head up. Her eyes flashed with something, a light turning her amber irises to molten gold.

            My lips crashed against hers, a desperate need burning through me.

 

_Seth, Evening, 9:18 PM_

            I slipped back around the corner, hoping to grab my wrist wrap before anyone else get into the trainer’s room. Rules and all, “patient” privacy and all that. My match started in twenty minutes, so I didn’t have a whole lot of time to wait around to pick it up.

            “Shit,” I murmured when I saw the closed door. For a second, I thought about just waiting outside, but I didn’t know how long it would take.

            _Damn the rules_ , I thought as I reached the door. I knocked twice and turned the knob. When I poked my head into the room, my gut sank into the floor.

            Mera and Dean stood near the table, wrapped in an embrace. Sun-kissed honey hair was threaded tightly around Dean’s fist. The line of Mera’s throat was visible. A faint shade of pink bled over her cheek. Somehow I’d forgotten how lithe she was.

            I backed out of the room, unsurprised to find that they didn’t know they’d been interrupted. I blinked, trying to get the image out of my mind. But I found that I couldn’t—there was no forgetting the image of Mera Reynolds vulnerable and beautiful.

            When had she gotten that way? She’d been attractive, but never so breathtaking.


	17. Chapter 16: Shut Up

Chapter 16: Shut Up

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_Dean, Evening, 10:15 PM_

            I made sure that Mera was calm before I slipped out of the trainer’s room for my match. She let me dab some cool water on her face, soothe away the puffy redness beneath her eyes. I would gladly have stayed with her through the rest of the night, but she insisted that I head to gorilla and get warmed up. She promised she’d be watching on the monitors.

            If I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have been fighting some mid-card tag-team player to fill time on Monday Night Raw. If I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have been defending the Raw tag-team championships beside my brother, Seth Rollins.

            If I’d had my way, I would’ve been beating the holy hell out of the man behind Seth Rollins for everything that he’d done to Mera Reynolds—my wife.

            But I didn’t have my way, there was no negotiating it with creative. I’d have to playact on camera as if Seth was still the brother I’d always known and loved. I’d learn to be calm for her sake. And I’d take out my rage on anyone they put in front of me.

 

_Mera, Evening, 10:18 PM_

            I checked my schedule to be sure that there wasn’t anyone I was scheduled to see. When I was sure that my next half hour or so was clear, I slipped out of the trainer’s room and made a quick stop at the bathroom. Dean might have tried to clean me up after my sobbing fit, but I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d been crying. Weakness wasn’t something that Vince McMahon took to very easily.

            Monitors were set up in a bank near some of the interview areas. I turned a bucket over and sat down in front of them just as Dean’s music screamed through the arena. Warmth spilled through my entire body when Dean appeared around the LED board, a wicked sort of grin on his face. I hoped that everything that happened hadn’t gotten so far into his head that it messed with his concentration.

            I couldn’t stand it if I was the reason Dean lost a match—no matter how small it was. His opponent swept down to the ring, Baron Corbin with his mid-level manager look. In character, he was as smarmy as they come. As a real person, he wasn’t too bad. A little cocky, but manageable. I might have liked him if he wasn’t so full of himself.

            The bell rang for the match to begin, and Dean leapt on his opponent with a fury that I’d never seen before. He wasn’t so much wrestling Baron as attempting to destroy him. Dean’s face had gone slightly red, his eyes wild even on camera. My stomach twisted.

            Something thumped on the floor next to me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, surprised and startled to find Seth sitting on another upturned bucket. He seemed to be watching the monitors, but I couldn’t help but feel that he kept watching me as well.

            “Wonder why he’s so pissed off tonight,” Seth murmured, running his hand over his hair.

            I tried desperately to keep my words calm, even though I knew it was better to not speak to him at all. “None of your business.”

            “Shit, you don’t have to be so grumpy,” he grunted.

            My leg twitched in frustration. I wanted desperately to keep my attention on Dean and his match. He was my focus—he _should_ be my focus—and whatever Seth Rollins had up his sleeve was nothing to me.

            I closed my eyes briefly, snatching at a fragment of a memory. Dean and I in Las Vegas on the night we got married. Dancing in the parking lot of the Little White Wedding Chapel to no music. I remembered his cornflower blue eyes and the way his autumn and mahogany hair looked tousled and wavy.

            I latched onto that thought—that moment when we set off on this journey together. No matter what happened, I would always have Dean Ambrose and that was enough.

            “Mera,” Seth said after a while. His voice sounded wounded and small. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

            My lungs expanded with a deep breath. Dean whipped across the ring on the monitor, slamming hard into the ring post. I sucked in a gasp, knowing there’d be bruises tomorrow morning and making a mental note to set aside some ice packs to take to the hotel for him. Some Advil or Aleve wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

            “What on Earth is there for us to talk about, Seth?” I ground out.

 

_Seth, Evening, 10:29 PM_

            At first, I thought she called me _Seth_ because we were at work. It took me a while to realize that that was how she saw me. I wasn’t _Colby_ to her anymore.

            And somehow, that was painful, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

            “We used to be friends. Remember?” I asked, giving her a gentle knock with my knee.

            Hurt struck me in the chest when she moved away. She didn’t even try to hide her desire to get away from me. I swallowed hard, glanced down at my hands.

            “Remember when we were kids—like nine or something—and Brandon locked us in the shed on Mr. Quincy’s property? It was cold as fuck outside and the snow had blocked off the windows.”

            Something flashed along her face. I was surprised to find myself wishing that it was something good. This new wave of nostalgia and longing for the old days was enough to twist me into confusing knots. I tried not to look at the gentle curls in her honey-colored hair or the way that she looked so sadly, breathtakingly pretty.

            Her lips twitched, almost as if she wanted to smile. I took that as a good sign. “Your dad was _so_ pissed when he found us. I’ve never seen Brandon run so fast than when we showed up on the front porch with your dad right behind us.”

            “Your brother never had any sense. Seems to be a family trait.”

            The phantom smile disappeared, replaced with a hard frown and a radiating cold.

            “Are you at least going to invite me to your second wedding?”

 

_Dean, Evening, 10:34 PM_

            My back was throbbing. Baron was a son of a bitch to fight, but he put on a good show. When he realized I was throwing everything at him, he went in with gusto. I knew I’d have a bruise or two in the morning, and I was pretty damn certain that he would, too.

            All I could think of was Mera—not for how she could soothe the pain radiating down the center of my back. I craved just being close to her, watching the way that she moved with lithe grace. I longed to be enveloped in the scent that was uniquely her. I wanted to sit in the corner and watch the light play over her honey and fire hair.

            Mera Reynolds was the altar at the center of my being. She was the rock upon which I would build the rest of my existence. She was the goddess upon the pedestal at whose feet I knelt to worship. I loved her with every ounce of my soul, every cell in my body, every breath in my lungs.

            I rounded the corner and saw the light of my existence sitting in front of the monitors. Everything about her was breathtaking and beautiful.

            Except the fact that Seth was a few feet away.

            A growl rumbled through my chest. That primal thing in my chest roared with fury at him being so close to her. I couldn’t see her face, but my mind conjured up a thousand scenarios that could have brought her pain or discomfort. The growl rose up my throat, shredded my vocal cords, echoed down the corridor.

            Mera looked up at the sound. Her eyes widened as I raced toward them with rage in my veins. Something rattled along the floor as she stood up, nearly jumping out of the way. Seth was on his feet half a second later, but too slow to avoid the straight punch I threw at his jaw. His neck snapped back, rolling toward his left shoulder. He stumbled back a few paces, tripping over whatever Mera had knocked aside.

            “You’re a fucking son of a bitch, you know that, Rollins?” I snarled, stomping over to his prone form. He looked up at me from the floor, his hand cupping his jaw.

            “What the hell, Dean?” he accused.

            From the corner of my eye, I saw Mera with her back pressed up against the wall, watching the whole thing. I dug through my will, doing everything I could to stop myself from going after Seth. I reminded myself that the only thing that mattered was my wife’s happiness—her safety, her comfort, her peace.

            One deep breath after another. I turned my back on Seth and crossed the corridor to Mera with a few steps. I moved slowly, gave her space to think before I got too close.

            “Are you okay?” I asked in a quiet tone. My fingers itched to touch her, to brush against the soft skin of her cheek, but I held back.

            She took a tentative step before she seemed to find herself. Her eyes flashed as she moved. Color boomed on her face. Before I knew it, Mera had swept up in front of me and all but punched me in the chest.

            I knew my face bore surprise when I looked down at her. There was an anger that turned her amber eyes to flames. Good God, she was nearly electric with it. It crackled through her hair. It was static that blurred a halo around her body.

            “Don’t you _ever_ do that again, Dean Ambrose,” she nearly snarled. “When— _if_ —I need your help, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, just… let me fight on my own.”

            I almost didn’t believe what I was hearing. When the words permeated my brain, I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It wasn’t because I thought it was funny, but because I loved the fire and certainty in her voice. As much as I adored the softness, the fragility of her in the quiet moments when she’s lost in thought, I cherished the strength in her that came out in sparse flashes and glimpses.

            Ignoring the fact that Seth was nearby, I reached for her. My fingers slid along the side of her neck, drawing her close enough to press my lips to hers. When I drew away, I was grinning.

            “Yes, ma’am,” I replied with pride. “I’m sorry… if I interrupted something.”

            Mera’s eyes moved over my shoulder, looking to where Seth had been. I followed her gaze, surprised to find him still there, his hand still rubbing at his jaw.

            “You’re right, Seth,” she said, “we used to be friends. But that was before. I was friends with the guy I grew up with. Whoever you are now, I don’t know who that is. And I’m certainly not friends with him because he’s a selfish asshole.”

            I tried not to smirk. I really did. But I couldn’t help it. In less than thirty seconds, she’d given him the perfect verbal smackdown. Pride swelled inside me, smoothed over the anger that had settled in my chest.

            Mera reached out and took my hand, threading our fingers together. It was a silent acknowledgement that she was mine and I was hers.

            “Let’s go, sweet wife,” I murmured against the top of her head. “Show’s almost over and I need some TLC from a qualified medical professional.”

            She blushed and grinned. Whether it was from the endearment or just because, but I’d take it. Seeing her happy was the only thing that mattered.

            That and watching her put Seth Rollins in his place.


	18. Chapter 17: We're Gonna Tear Up the Town

Chapter 17: We’re Gonna Tear Up the Town

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_Dean, Night, 2:04 AM_

            My mouth stroked softly against the skin along Mera’s back. Soft sighs erupted with every kiss down her spine. She lay on her stomach, arms wrapped around the pillow beneath her head. Clothes were strewn across the floor—hers landing piecemeal from the door of the hotel room, my boots and shirt at the bedside. In nothing but a pair of emerald green boyshorts, she was soul-stealing.

            I swept her hair out of the way, nipping gently at the flesh on the curve where neck and shoulder met. She mewled as my fingers skimmed along her side, slid beneath, drew her up against my chest. Her back pressed against me, her ass rubbing agonizingly over my cock. I groaned against her ear, my voice dropping into a growl as I cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples.

            “You’re mine,” I whispered. “My wife. And I will spend the rest of my life reminding you.”

            Her mewling turned into panting as her hips ground back against me. One hand slid down her stomach, flingers slipping beneath the band of her underwear. Her head fell back against my shoulder as I found that spot that made her squirm. I stroked her slowly, listening to the gentle whimpering and moaning that slipped past her lips.

            I nipped gently on her ear, chuckling as her hips writhed against my touch.

            “Say it,” I pleaded, needed to hear the words from her. To know that she would let me take the joy of loving her, caring for her, worshiping every inch of her body for the remainder of our days. “Say you’re mine.”

            She turned her head to meet my gaze. Her eyes burned molten brass and gold. Sunbursts of light in the darkness. They were glassed over with lust.

            “I’m yours,” she replied, her voice throaty. It was the most seductive sound I’d ever heard. She reached back, dug her fingers into my hair, her neck arching as she ground her core down against my fingers. “Your wife. Always yours.”

            She shuddered, caught her bottom lip in her teeth. My cock twitched, aching to be inside her. I knew that hitch in her breath, that shiver that ran along her limbs. She teetered on the edge of release.

            I growled into her ear as I slipped my fingers inside her, felt her shatter in my grasp.

 

_Mera, Night, 2:12 AM_

            Every molecule in my body vibrated with a wicked sort of pleasure. There was something in Dean’s voice that awoke a hidden part of me. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I didn’t care. I was in his arms, and I was his, and he was mine.

            His breath was hot against my cheek as he drew his hand from inside my underwear. I whimpered at the loss of his touch, my entire body yearning for more than I’d ever imagined.

            “Mera,” he murmured, fingers dragging along the line of my exposed throat. It took a moment to realize they were the same fingers that had taken me over into bliss. No sooner had he touched me than his mouth followed their trail, licking the taste of me from my skin. Each swipe of his tongue was punctuated by a slowly whispered word. “My… _sweet_ … wife.”

            In an instant, he was gone. I whimpered, suddenly bereft of his warmth and his tantalizing touch.

            “Shh,” Dean cooed as he stepped in front of me. I knelt on the bed in nothing but my underwear, flesh attuned to every breath that passed his lips, heart thundering against my ribs. He watched me with gunmetal eyes, beckoning me forward with one curling finger as he unbuckled his belt with the other.

            I crawled toward the edge of the bed, unable to look away from him. His eyes were mischievous and sparkling, a smirk settling on his lips. My knees wobbled as I made it to my feet. I steadied myself with my palms against his chest, feeling sparks run over my skin when we touched.

            Dean reached for me, his palm settling against the side of my neck, his fingers burrowing into my hair. His thumb brushed the line of my jaw. “I love when you’re like this,” he breathed. “Breathless and sated and more perfect than I have a right to see.”

            I leaned forward, let my mouth trace the contours of his muscles. He let out a half-concealed moan as I sank to my knees, fingers working free the button and zipper on his jeans. My heart beat against my ribs as his jeans and underwear hit the floor.

            He watched my every move, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I met his gaze as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. His breath caught with each slow stroke. My tongue swept along my lips, drawing a low groan from Dean.

            Smiling innocently, I leaned forward and wrapped my mouth around him.

 

_Dean, Night, 2:17 AM_

            Mera on her knees was a sight that I would never forget, even if it was nearly impossible for my brain to make sense of anything just then. Every move she made wove a spell of seduction around me that could never be broken. God knew that I was in thrall to her for the rest of my days.

            I fought to keep control of my deepest desires. I could imagine my fingers in her hair, the strands wrapped around my fist as her mouth worked wonders on my cock. Just the thought made my knees nearly buckle.

            My head fell back, fingers clenched. _Keep it together_. _Keep it fucking together_.

            Before I knew it, I was panting at the effort to hold back. Teeth clenched, fingernails digging into my palms, white knuckling the last shreds of control.

            “Stop… stop,” I panted, reaching down to gently push her away.

            Those heart-stopping eyes of hers looked up at me, something like hurt flashing in them. Holy hell, there was an innocence in that look that nearly undid me.

            With a faint growl, I swept her up from her knees. She squealed, then laughed—that gorgeous musical sound that made my blood turn to light in my veins. My mouth found her ear.

            “I hope these aren’t your favorite,” I whispered harshly. A moment later, there was nothing but torn scraps of fabric on the floor, the remaining pieces of those little boyshorts. Her gold eyes flashed, something primal staring back at me.

            I took her in my arms. She hooked her legs around my hips, arms around my neck. My hands curled around the flesh of her thighs as I stepped toward the wall, pressed her back against it.

            Drawing her down, my cock slipped inside her.

            My control snapped.

 

_Mera, Night, 2:26 AM_

            It was a harsh contrast, the yielding warmth of my husband’s body and the cold unforgiving wall. And yet it was wonderful in a way that I couldn’t explain.

            My arms wrapped around him as Dean pressed my shoulders to the wall. He kept a firm grip on my thighs, his hands guiding me to meet his thrusts. His mouth settled on my breast, lips and teeth and tongue teasing at my nipple until I thought I was going to explode from the sensation.

            I’d never seen him like this—there was something intoxicatingly powerful about his movements, about the look in his eyes and the tender ferocity with which he pounded into me. I couldn’t help but whimper and moan, slipping into an incoherent repetition of _yes Dean yes_ when every higher order thought process shut down.

            There was only breathing and the ever-tightening coil of tension throughout my body. It bordered on the edge of painful. Tears stung my eyes. All I wanted, all I needed was to fall over into oblivion.

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chanted against my shoulder as his rhythm fell apart into erratic strokes as he found his release. His fingers dug into my thighs, rocking my hips as he spilled himself inside me.

            I let out a faint squeal of frustration. I was hanging out over the abyss, so close and yet so far. The desire—the need—for it was so strong. I wasn’t above begging.

            “Please, Dean! Please,” I beseeched, trying to move against him. He held me tightly—tight enough I was sure I’d have marks on my thighs in the morning—fully in control of me. My eyes burned. I thought I would cry. “Please…”

            He let out a growl that rumbled through his chest. He pulled me away from the wall, wrapped one arm around my back as he stumbled backward toward the bed. He hit the edge, sat down. His free hand slipped between us.

            The faint brush of his thumb against my clit was enough.

            The world shattered into a hundred thousand million pieces, a supernova burning along my nerves.


	19. Chapter 18: Without Any Makeup On

Chapter 18: Without Any Makeup On

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**_A Week Later_ **

_Mera, Afternoon, 1:24 PM_

            I looked around the kitchen in the house in Las Vegas, taking in the pile of broken-down boxes and the hodge-podge of mismatched cooking gear. My back ached from bending and lifting, and my arms were sore from packing stuff away into the shelves. I could feel the sweat as it settled stickily against my skin.

            I felt disgusting.

            Dean had taken charge of carrying things upstairs. Whether or not it would all end up where it was supposed to, that was another story. The sound of his footsteps echoed above me every now and then. Sometimes, I’d hear him swear as he moved something.

            The movers had brought the big stuff in—dining table and chairs, sofas, mattresses and bedframes. Boxes had been dropped off in various places in the house, some of them marked for limbo storage in the garage. We’d spent the better part of the morning unpacking the essentials.

            I could see the back patio through the glass doors. The pool shimmered in the desert sunshine. For a moment, I wanted to just strip out of my sweaty, ratty clothes and jump into the water. Even with the air-conditioning running, it was hot as hell.

            Once I was happy with where everything was—or as happy as I could be with an on-the-fly organization—I opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. I made a mental note to make a grocery list and go out the next day to stock up on things. Until then, I’d find a local restaurant that delivered so we could have dinner.

            I walked through the open area that Dean called the den, the place with the bar set in under the stairs. It was still empty, a place that I figured Dean would want to put together on his own. When I first saw it, I knew that was going to be his spot—his center in the house.

            At the top of the stairs, I stopped, took a breath. There was a wide-open space with a small end table. It had a distressed look, the egg shell paint a little faded. On top sat a photo frame, a print of the picture from that first night in Vegas staring back from beneath the glass. I smiled, looking at how happy the two of us were.

            “Dean?” I called down the hallway. “Where are you?”

            A door near the end of the hall opened—one on the patio side of the house. Dean’s hazelnut hair popped out, his blue eyes lighting up when he smiled at me.

            “Give me two minutes,” he replied, holding up two fingers. “Then you can come in.”

 

_Dean, Afternoon, 1:30 PM_

            I swept the door shut, doing some quick math in my head to make sure that I could get the finishing touches done before she got bored of waiting. While I was supposed to be getting everything unpacked upstairs, I’d really spent most of the time putting together the master bedroom and the bathroom that was attached to it.

            The bed was a queen mattress sat up on an ivory painted platform. I’d done my best to make it perfectly—crisp cream-colored sheets and a white duvet, brand new pillows and a folded turquoise blanket on the end. Matching nightstands with lamps sat on each side of the bed. A vase of blue hydrangea and cornflowers sat on a table opposite the end of the bed. Above was a painting from her apartment in Florida—a print copy of Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

            Ivory gauze curtains covered the windows, blackout shades ready to be dropped behind them.

            I turned in circles, made sure that everything was perfect. There wasn’t much I could do to make this place like her home in Florida, but I could do my best to make it feel like _our_ home.

            “Okay,” I yelled. “Come on in.”

            Jesus Christ, it felt like my heart was going to burst straight out of my chest. If she didn’t like it…

            The handle turned and there she was. Her honey hair was frizzed and tangled in its confines. She looked at once exhausted and breathtaking. Even if her face was flushed with the effort of exertion.

            Mera glanced around the room, her eyes hitting on the details of the room. I watched as she caught sight of the print on the wall and the flowers. She leaned against the frame of the door. Something hit the floor as her hand came over her mouth. In half an instant, tears had begun streaking down her cheeks.

            I crossed the room in a few strides, my foot kicking something into the hall beyond her. My arms slipped around her, drawing her against my chest. It broke me to see her cry. Each and every tear was like a knife between my ribs. They pulled the blood from my body, the breath from my lungs.

            “My love, my love,” I whispered, palm cradling the back of her skull. “What’s wrong?”

            She sniffled. My heart dropped a little more.

            “Mera… please… tell me what’s wrong.”

            After a moment, she looked up at me with those amber eyes. Those eyes that tortured my soul and warmed my heart. The eyes that had captured every part of me the first time we met. They were blurred with the tears that beaded on her lashes, slipped down her face. I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb.

            “I can’t… you didn’t have to do all this,” she replied.

            “Oh, my sweet wife,” I murmured, my forehead settling against hers. The tip of my nose brushed against hers. “My beautiful, sweet wife. Anything and everything I do is to see you smile. It’s the whole of my life’s goal now.”

            I gathered her close, lips ghosting over hers, tasting the sweat of her skin along my tongue. She was everything that mattered to me. All that I could ever have wanted. More than I could have dreamed about when I was fighting my way out of the worst parts of Cincinnati. In my arms, she was the only thing that I could imagine living for.

            A smile ghosted along my mouth. “Do you like it?”

            She wrapped her arms around my waist. “It’s beautiful. Perfect.”

            I pressed a kiss against her lips, let it linger for a moment. “I’m glad.”

 

_Mera, Afternoon, 1:46 PM_

            Dean led me into the master bathroom. It was painted in slate grey, ivory curtains over the window. A glassed-in shower stall with a huge showerhead stood set into one wall. A deep Jacuzzi tub was on another. Gentle lighting wrapped around the mirror, set over a double sink. My travel toiletries sat in a bag on the edge of the tub. A stack of towels sat on the sink, waiting for their place.

            “Relax,” he murmured as he leaned over, running water in the tub. “I’ll figure out something for us to eat.”

            I looked in the mirror, made a face at the blotchy sweat and frizzy hair that stared back at me.

            Dean appeared behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. He drew me against him, his cheek pressed against mine.

            “You’re beautiful.” His voice was warm, deep. “Everything about you is beautiful no matter what you’re doing or what you look like.”

            I watched him in the mirror. His eyes were bright and gentle. A faint smile curved his lips, the faint outlines of his dimples showing in his cheeks. He looked me as if I was the most important thing in the world.

            He kissed the side of my neck. “There is nothing and no one on this earth that is more beautiful than you are right now. And that’s the woman I love. That’s my wife.”

            The next moment, his fingers gently stripped off the clothes that were stiff with sweat. Then he led me over to the tub and guided me in beneath the water. He turned on the jets and sat down on the floor beside me.

            “Why did we wait so long to tell each other the truth, Dean?”

            He let out a sad chuckle. “Because you weren’t mine to claim, Mera. Not for a long time.”

            I leaned my head back against the tile, meeting his gaze. “I wish you had. If you had said something… If I had known how being with you would completely change me…”

            Dean sat up on his knees, reached for the shampoo in my travel bag. The next moment, he was gently lathering my hair, fingers working rhythmically and soothingly against my scalp.

            “I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you,” he intoned. “I never want to change you.”

            I let out a little sigh of contentment as he rinsed the suds away. “But you have. I feel like I’m a brand-new person with you. It’s like you’ve found pieces of me that I didn’t know existed.”

            He pressed a gentle kiss on my shoulder. “I saw them, way back then. They were just buried.”


	20. Chapter 19: You Think I'm Funny

Chapter 19: You Think I’m Funny

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_Dean, Evening, 6:37 PM_

            I threw an extra twenty bucks in for a tip for the kid who delivered our dinner. It was from a Chinese place not that far from the house that I hadn’t tried before, but Mera liked take out. Not quite sure exactly what she wanted, I ordered fried and white rice, dumplings, sweet and sour chicken, steak teriyaki, vegetables, and spring rolls. The bottom of the bag was filled with little packets of regular and mild duck sauce, soy sauce, and a bowl of teriyaki reduction.

            After her bath, she’d curled up on the bed to nap. I spent some time getting the bar set up in the den, stocking it the way I wanted—best stuff on the bottom—and making sure the lights had been strung up in the pool. Once I’d finished with that, I called out the order and took a quick shower, doing my best not to wake Mera. It didn’t surprise me how deeply she slept. She’d practically put together the whole bottom floor of the house on her own in an afternoon.

            I searched around until I found where she’d stocked the plates and the utensils.

            “What are you doin’?” mumbled my sweet, sleep drugged wife from the bottom of the stairs.

            Turning, I could just barely see her from the kitchen island. Her sunlight and honey hair was mussed from sleep, the tangled locks hanging over one shoulder. A faint flush ran over her cheeks, her body warm from sleep.

            That primal thing in my chest stirred, a rumble of contentment running through my entire body. She was breathtakingly beautiful. It was humbling to see her there, to know that she was mine.

            “Trying to set the table for dinner, darlin’,” I drawled, putting down everything in my hands to go to her. When I reached her, I wrapped her in my arms, burying my nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. “I wanted to surprise you.”

            I felt her smile against my neck. “You don’t have to,” she cooed, palms splaying out on my ribs.

            For a second, I wanted to answer. Instead, I nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll save them for a special night then.”

 

_Mera, Evening, 6:44 PM_

            Each new moment with Dean Ambrose was something new, something that made me fall a little bit further in love. No matter how stressful it had been moving everything from my place in Florida, he had done everything he could to make it as smooth as possible. It was a wonderful thing to not have to worry about the details of everything. Dean took care of it all.

            When I saw him standing in the kitchen—of _our_ house—in sweatpants and a threadbare grey tee, I couldn’t help but smile. His damp hazelnut hair was swept so that it fell a little over his left eye. He looked so… soft.

            Dean smiled as he took my hand, drawing me toward the island. “How about we have dinner outside?”

            I grinned back, running my free hand through my tangled hair. “What do we have to eat?”

            “Anything you could want from a Chinese place. I hope.” He shrugged, an adorable expression flitting across his face.

            “Did you get General Tso’s?”

            “Shit,” Dean swore. “Okay, almost anything.”

            “What about orange chicken?”

            I watched him grit his teeth, make a fist and thump it into his thigh. “Okay, almost _almost_ anything.”

            “Wonton soup? Lo mein?”

            He stopped, turned toward me. There was a little downward curve of his mouth. “Okay, we have seven things you can get at a Chinese takeout place.”

            I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Are there spring rolls?”

            “Yes!” he exclaimed, blue eyes going bright as he threw his arms up in triumph. “Yes, my sweet wife, there are spring rolls!”

            Before I could stop myself, I broke out into laughter. The giggling seemed to pour out of me without direction or meaning. It was something about being with Dean, in the place that we could now call our own, with him trying so hard to do everything right.

_Dean, Evening, 6:51 PM_

            She laughed and I swear I thought the universe had exploded into a supernova of light. Her eyes turned to shimmering gold that danced with flecks of bronze. There was a smile on her face that made my heart stop in my chest.

            God knows I would die gladly if hers was the last face I ever saw.

            “I like it when you call me that,” she admitted softly.

            I slipped my arms around her waist, drew her against me. She curled against my chest, face tilted up toward mine. I settled my forehead against hers, letting myself smile peacefully.

            “Good. Because I like saying it,” I murmured, brushing the tip of my nose along her cheek. “Because you are _my wife_ , and there is nothing sweeter than you.”

            She blushed. Everything about her seemed brighter, set off with a rosy glow that made her look fuzzy around the edges. Her hands slid up my chest. My whole body shivered, and I did my best to keep desire in check. Mera’s palms settled against my jaw, thumbs brushing along my cheeks.

            “Yes, there is,” she whispered, her voice low, husky. “There’s you, my sweet, sweet, _sweet_ husband.”

            My heart nearly burst in my chest at the sound of her calling me her husband—sweet or not. I could spend every moment of every day of the rest of my life listening to her call me _husband_. If I had my way, I would.

            Mera leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips against mine. It was gentle, lingering and chaste. Yet it was just as beautiful and breathtaking as anything more passionate. When she drew away, her eyes met mine. I was suddenly awestruck once again by how absolutely gorgeous she was, how thoroughly I was lost in her eyes, how completely she owned every part of me—heart, body, and soul.

            How desperately and wholly I loved her.

            “Come on, sweet wife,” I said with a grin. “I was going to set up the food by the pool, but we can eat in here if you want.”

            “Outside would be fantastic.”

            I kissed her once on the forehead before taking her hand and pulling her along behind me. In the kitchen, we gathered up the boxes of takeout, a couple plates and silverware. We were nearly out the door when she remembered drinks.

            After stashing the food on the side of the pool, Mera ducked back into the kitchen. When she reappeared, she had a bottle of beer in each hand and a twinkle in her eyes.

            A moment later, we were sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water as we ate. She ate as if she was starving, splashing her toes every now and then. I couldn’t take my eyes off her—the way she smiled, the way she laughed. She seemed so happy just then.

            I took a sip of my beer and grinned at her.

_Mera, Evening, 7:10 PM_

            The way he smiled at me was almost more than I could handle. It made his dimples show at the corners of his mouth. His blue eyes turned bright as a summer sky. Just looking at him made my heart skip a beat.

            He laughed, making his whole face light up. “Hey, have I told you about this buddy of mine who has a new hobby?”

            I sensed something amiss, but couldn’t quite figure it out. “No.”

            Dean nodded and took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, he’s a photographer. And he takes pictures of fish in different outfits. He says its like shooting fish in apparel.”

            A split second later, I realized what he said. The smirk on his face was enough to show that he was proud of himself. I had to admit, it was relatively clever. Or it would have been, if it wasn’t such a…

            “Bad dad joke,” I said, throwing my head back and laughing. It was more at how horrible the joke was rather than the fact that it was funny. “Oh my god, Dean… that was bad. _So bad.”_

            He laughed a little louder before leaning over to kiss me on the side of the head. “I’ve got a lifetime of ‘em, darlin’.”

            Warmth spread through my whole body. I could only imagine what a lifetime of horrible jokes and takeout with our feet in the water under a starry desert night.

            It was everything I could ever want.

            And I wanted it with Dean Ambrose.


	21. Chapter 20: I Know You Get Me

Chapter 20: I Know You Get Me

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_Mera, Morning, 8:34 AM_

            I hummed as I worked over the stove, three skillets going all at the same time. Bacon sizzled on the back burner as it slowly curled up, went crisp. Eggs over easy fried toward perfection just in front of me. To my left, French toast browned. The aroma of breakfast filled the kitchen, wafted out over the pool through the open door, mixed with the unique scent of a desert morning.

            We’d been in the Vegas house for just a few days. The essentials had been done, but there were still a few details that I wanted to work on. Of course, we had to catch a flight first thing the next morning to get to the Raw show. On our last day of peace before we had to get back on the road, I wanted to have a little slice of normalcy. Of a traditional marriage.

            Dean was a night owl, probably because of the schedule they had of performing and then driving half the night to get to the next city. He had still been awake when I’d gone to bed around midnight, and I had no memory of when he came to bed. All I knew was that I woke up wrapped in his arms.

            I felt the smile slip onto my face as I realized that could be the rest of my life. If I wanted it, I could wake up with him each and every morning. We could travel the country side-by-side… just like I had with Seth all those years. Only this time, the person beside me actually wanted me there.

            Happiness settled into my bones as I made sure that everything hit the plate hot. It took a moment to find the syrup in the pantry, so I put it on my to do list to organize it to my liking. Dean didn’t seem like much of a cook.

 

_Dean, Morning, 8:40 AM_

            It was surprising as hell when my body woke me up before ten. I’d hit the bed around three and passed out pretty quick. Going to bed early wasn’t my thing, even when I wasn’t on the road.

            My heart skipped a beat when I thought back to when I came to bed last night. Mera was curled up in a ball on what she had claimed as her side of the bed, one hand tucked up beneath her pillow. I moved as quietly as I could to get in to bed, doing my best to not disturb her too much. By the time I’d settled in on my back, she’d turned over, nestled into my side. I fell asleep wrapped in the warmth of her body and the scent of her black cherry shampoo.

            I rolled out of bed, yawning and stretching. There was a moment of a sort of vertigo—a sudden realization that Mera’s things were spread throughout the house, that it was real, she was my wife, and this was our home. I touched my wedding band, letting myself slip back into memories of that night beneath the desert sky when we threw caution to the wind and did something wonderfully stupid and rash.

            The scent of bacon hit me as I came down the stairs. I couldn’t help but grin when I thought of Mera making breakfast in our house. Crying was another option, but I was trying hard to keep my shit together. Getting weepy every time I thought about her and the future wasn’t attractive—and it certainly wasn’t my normal MO.

            I caught sight of her and stopped dead in my tracks. Her hair was drawn back in a messy ponytail, those golden light waves trailing down her back. Sun streamed in through the glass doors and cast a halo of softness all around her. She danced around to some music in her head, her hips swaying side-to-side slowly as she loaded up two plates with food. As beautiful as the entire sight was, it only got better when my brain recognized the shirt she wore.

            It was one of mine, the Ice Bear shirt I’d worn that first day at her place in Florida.

            “Mmm,” I hummed, letting her know I was there. “You’re gonna spoil me, darlin’.”

            She turned toward me, a smile on her face that made her eyes burn bright. A faint blush ran along her cheekbones. I crossed the room and slipped my arms around her waist, palms settling on the curve of her ass. She reached up, locked her fingers behind my neck. With a little giggle, she jumped, wrapping her legs around my waist. My hold shifted, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.

            “Good morning, sweet husband,” she murmured, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck.

            There was no looking away from her. Just as I had that very first night, I got caught up, lost in the amber of her eyes. It sent a jolt through my body, a shot of electricity that burned from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, energy that infused every cell of my body. An ounce of that feeling was better than the best shot of whisky, produced a sensation more addicting than any drug. She held my world—my heart, my soul, my happiness—in the palm of her hand, a goddess of beauty that held every part of me in thrall.

            “Good morning, my sweet wife,” I returned. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. It was deep, guttural in a way that seemed to resonate from that primal sense that had taken root in my chest. Each time I looked at Mera, that instinct purred in contentment. When I called her my wife, it rumbled with acknowledgement. It was such a strange thing to think of her as mine, even as I held her on a pedestal, watched her and knew she could never be tamed.

            I felt the shiver that ran through her when I said those words. I smirked—there was no way to stop it. And I didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the same time. _I’ll remember that for later_.

 

_Mera, Morning, 8:44 AM_

            _My sweet wife_ , I thought, letting the words reverberate in my brain, Dean’s voice amplifying them into my consciousness. I could never get enough of hearing them, of knowing that he held me as his, that everything that I was belonged to him. For the first time, I understood the feeling of being perfectly protected, loved, cherished… wanted. It made my entire being feel light.

            Free.

            I leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on the end of Dean’s nose. He let out a little huff, one corner of his mouth curving up into an indulgent smirk. I grinned back at him, happier than I had been in a very long time.

            “We didn’t have too much in the fridge since we’re leaving tomorrow, but I did what I could,” I said, looking back over my shoulder at the plates still steaming on the counter. “Probably a good idea to buy the spoilable stuff in small doses.”

            When I turned back to him, there was an aura of calm settled on his face. Cornflower eyes swept along my face, the curve of my neck, the shape of my shoulders. He blinked, closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened his eyes again, they were glassy with tears.

            “Oh, Dean,” I cooed, settling my palms against his bearded cheeks. “Don’t do that. Please.”

 

_Dean, Morning, 8:47 AM_

            _Shit_.

            _Shit._

            The word ran through my thoughts, chasing around the overwhelming sense of being unworthy. Unworthy of being in her presence, of being the object of her love, of being able to hold her in my arms, kiss her, watch the way her face burned with pleasure. I was little more than a fucked-up kid from Ohio. She was the Midwestern girl with more brains than I’d ever have.

            Yet, there she was, my arms wrapped around the softness of her body. And she had agreed to be mine that wonderful night on the Vegas Strip. This ethereal goddess had stepped out of my wildest dreams to make my life so much more bearable.

            Mera brushed her thumb along my cheek, her voice wrapping around me and filtering through my thoughts. I breathed in deeply of the scent of her skin, found it mixed with my cologne.

            I sat her carefully on her feet, taking care to not let her go. As if she knew how much I needed it, she curled against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I clutched her to me, nose buried in her hair.

            “I never thought I would have a shot with someone like you,” I said, surprised to find my voice breaking. “You were so far out of my league. God knows, you still are.”

            She hugged me harder. My fingers delved into her hair, cradling her head against my chest, desperate to feel her against my fingers. It was the only thing that grounded me, kept me from being swept under in this feeling of inadequacy and terror of losing her when she realized who and what I really was.

            “Every second with you is more than I deserve.”

            She wriggled away, sending fear spiking in my veins. The breath ripped from my lungs as she looked up at me, fury snapping in her gaze.

            “Stop it,” she demanded firmly. “Right now.”

            Surprise kept my mouth shut.

            Mera rose up on her toes, palms against my neck, thumbs stroking the bottom of my jaw. “You are the most wonderful man that I’ve ever met. For seven years, you tried to be honorable. For seven years, you were a good friend. Dean Ambrose, you are kind, and gentle, and funny, and sweet, and caring, and smart, and…”

            “I’m not smart, Mera. Not like you.”

            “Bullshit,” she retorted quickly. “You are one of the smartest people I know. A degree doesn’t mean you’re smart. My brother has a master’s degree and he’s dumb as a brick. There are things you can do that I’ll never fathom.”

            She looked me in the eye, fire of conviction crackling all around her. “You are _my husband_ , Dean. And my husband deserves everything in the world and more.”

            I opened my mouth to respond, but she shook her head firmly. She was wreathed in confidence and passion, everything about her awe-inspiring, breathtaking, beautiful.

            “Now sit your deserving ass down and eat your breakfast,” she ordered with a barely concealed grin.

            “Yes, ma’am, sweet wife.”

            God help me, Mera Reynolds was the only woman on the face of the planet who could put up with me. And I’d never let myself—or her—forget how lucky I was that she was mine and I was hers.  


	22. Chapter 21: So I Let My Walls Come Down

Chapter 21: So I Let My Walls Come Down

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_Mera, Evening, 6:30 PM_

            The backstage area was filled with superstars getting ready for the night’s pay-per-view. They raced from one end of the hallway to another, doing last minute fixes on their gear and grabbing forgotten items. Some were grabbing snacks from catering while others settled in for their pre-match rituals. I sat on a travel case just outside the trainer’s room, munching on a plate of food from catering and watching Dean put on his tape.

            “You look happy,” he said, watching me from beneath the fringe of hair that fell over his brow. There was a faint smile on his lips.

            I shrugged, taking another bite of the rosemary chicken. “This food is good.”

            His smile got wider. “You’ve been eating more lately. I wonder why you need so much energy?”

            Blushing, I looked away, thinking of the nights we spent together—wrapped up in each other. Every moment with Dean was amazing, even if we did nothing other than sit on opposite ends of the sofa watching television. Of course, the moments when he had his hands in my hair and his lips against my skin were more than memorable.

            “Shut up,” I replied with an answering grin. “It’s all your fault anyway.”

            “If you didn’t look so delectable all the time, I’d leave you alone.”

            “Hmph. I guess I’ll have to walk around in sweats with my hair in tangles all the time.”

            Dean rolled his eyes and put down the tape. He braced his hands on the case, one on each side to block me in. His face was close, gunmetal blue eyes locked onto mine. “Darlin’, that’s not going to change anything. You’re delectable no matter how you look.”

            I opened my mouth to answer, but he closed the distance and pressed his lips against mine. It was gentle and sweet, but held a host of promises behind it. A moment later, he kissed his way toward my ear, nuzzling his stubbled cheek against mine.

            “The wrappings don’t matter, Mera,” he whispered slowly. “Underneath, you’re always my sweet, _sweet_ wife.”

_Seth, Evening, 6:35 PM_

            The tag titles were up for grabs in a ladder match at the very beginning of the show. It was always an important thing for Dean and me to get in our headspace together. This was a big one, and we couldn’t afford to fuck anything up.

            He wasn’t in the locker room. He wasn’t in catering. Of course, I should have known that he would be in the trainer’s area. Ever since he’d gotten with Mera it was stupid to look for him anywhere else.

            I rounded the corner from wardrobe and saw them. Mera was settled atop a travel case, her legs dangling over the side, a plate from catering sitting next to her. She wore her black WWE polo and a pair of fitted pants that made me think of the shape of her legs. Her hair was caught up in a purposefully messy knot at the back of her head.

            And she was looking at Dean Ambrose like he hung the stars just for her. There was a blush on her cheeks. A light in her amber eyes.

            Something churned in my stomach. It was like bile, making me feel nauseated and filled with rage all at once. It was a venom that coursed through my veins, setting off a flurry of thoughts that cascaded through my mind.

            Thoughts I hadn’t had for years now.

            I tried to force all of it away as I walked toward them. My heart thumped agonizingly against my ribs with every step.

            A few steps away, I cleared my throat to give them some notice that I was there. Mera’s head jerked around guiltily. When she saw me, the shine faded from her eyes, turning them from molten gold to tarnished brass. Her smile slipped away, replaced by an uncertain frown. Dean turned slowly, inching his body until he stood between the two of us.

            “Hey, Dean. I’m ready to warm up when you are.” I struggled to keep my voice even, normal. The second I even glanced at Mera, I knew that he would turn on me. “I’ll be in the locker room with Roman. Remember that we’re on first against The Bar.”

            He nodded. It seemed that was all the response I was going to get.

            I took a breath, took a leap. “My lower back has been giving me issues today. Can I see the A.T. after the match?”

            It felt strange to talk to Mera as if we’d never met. As if we didn’t know one another. It was like talking to someone through a wall—if the wall could hit you when it got tired of listening.

_Dean, Evening, 6:40 PM_

            I didn’t like having Rollins there. As much as I understood that he and Mera had a history that I could never truly understand, I couldn’t forgive the pain he’d put her through. The primal thing in my chest perked up, prepared to protect the woman behind me with viciousness if needed.

            But I knew that Mera also had a job to do. And that job was entirely about keeping the superstars healthy and safe.

            Glancing over my shoulder, I met her gaze. She smiled, a little twitch of the corner of her mouth, and pressed her fingers against the base of my spine.

            “Of course,” she said, a tone of formality in her words. “I’ll make sure to have the TENS and some muscle relaxant ready.”

            By the time I turned back, I caught the end of Seth’s curt nod just before he turned on his heel and walked back down the hallway. I waited until he turned the corner before I let myself relax.

            “Want me to hang out here when we get done?”

            Her smile came fully this time. One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Not unless you feel like you need to. I’m getting better at dealing with him now.”

            I reached for her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have any regrets, Mera?”

            Shadows flitted across her features. Her eyes darkened, smile turning into a serious line. Her fingers slid along my neck, cupped my jaw until I had no choice but to meet her eyes. Silence filled the bubble of air between us, so heavy and tangible that I thought it would cave in my ribcage if it got any bigger. At last, she gave a soft sigh.

            “I have a lot of regrets, Dean—”

            I swallowed hard. My heart cracked like a frozen lake in the spring thaw. “I… we… Mera…” Words escaped me. All I knew was that my soul’s deepest desire was slowly slipping from my grasp. Brokenhearted roars vibrated through my blood from that beast in my chest, forlorn at the loss of the mate of my heart.

            She shushed me with a thumb pressed to my lips. “I have a lot of regrets, but you aren’t one of them. That night was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

            All the air had been sucked out of the room. I’d prepared myself to hear her ask for her freedom. Hearing the opposite made my brain scramble. It took a few minutes for reality to right itself again.

            “I’m sorry I get so insane about him,” I whispered, leaning into her touch. I’d never tire of how she smelled of black cherry and lilac. “All I can think about is how much he hurt you.”

            “I know,” she soothed, her fingers running through my beard. “Your heart is in the right place. But I want you to do something for me.”

            My eyes met hers, desperate to see the brightness return to her gaze. “Anything.”

            She held me firmly, ensuring that she had my entire attention. “Don’t let what he did to me get in the way of the friendship you guys have had all these years. I know that you’re there to help me, to protect me, to stand by me if I need you to. And I’m grateful beyond words for that. You and Colby have been friends for years. You’ve been brothers since you came to WWE. Don’t lose that.”

            “You want me to forget what he did? How much he hurt you?” I couldn’t process what she was saying. Forgetting—forgiveness—didn’t seem possible, not when he had broken the love of my life so thoroughly and ruthlessly.

            Mera closed her eyes briefly, as if she was taking her time choosing her words, sifting through her mind to make sense of what went on in her mind. When she opened them again, there was a shadow of sadness in her features.

_Mera, Evening, 6:50 PM_

            I loved the man in front of me more than I could ever know. Words didn’t exist to explain how much he meant to me, how completely he had made my life a wonderful experience each and every day. I knew in every corner of my soul that he loved me, cherished me. Of that, I never had a doubt.

            “No,” I replied. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking…”

            The thought was fully formed. I knew what I needed to ask of him, but I couldn’t form the words to request it.

            Dean smiled. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to my palm. “You’re asking me to let you handle whatever’s going on with you and him.”

            I nodded, glad that he understood me so completely.

            “You are a grown woman,” he continued. “And you’ll tell me when you need me.”

            An ache began in my chest, rolling out from my heart into my limbs. It was a wonderful ache that made me want to settle into his arms and never leave. He was a dream made flesh. A gift that I would never deserve.

            “Thank you,” I said at last, hooking my arms around his neck. He drew me up into his arms, hugged me as if his life depended on it.

            “Anything for you, darlin’.”


	23. Chapter 22: No Regrets, Just Love

Chapter 22: No Regrets, Just Love

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_Dean, Evening, 9:16 PM_

            It broke my fucking heart to see Mera like this. She was curled up on the sofa, wrapped in every blanket we had in the house. Her amber eyes were bright with a fever, face flushed, hair slightly damp near her ears. She’d been sitting at 100 for two days now, unable to keep anything more than Gatorade down for long.

            She looked miserable.

            I sat on the edge of the coffee table, knocking several empty bottles to the floor. Mera glanced at me, exhaustion clear in her features.

            “Are you going to let me take you to the doctor now?” I asked as I made sure she was wrapped tight in the blankets. Even beneath all those layers, I could see her shiver every few minutes.

            A faint smile settled on her mouth. Even sick as a dog, she was beautiful. “No. I’ll be fine.”

            “Mera…” I was ready to beg. I was ready to plead with her on my knees to just get checked out. “You’re not fine.”

            She settled back against the cushions, sighing as she did. Every move she made was accompanied by a moan or whimper of pain and discomfort. The sound of it was a knife in my gut. It was enough to make my throat close in terror. My deepest fears rose to the surface as I thought of losing her.

            I slid down into the floor, perching on my knees next to her. Sweat slid beneath my fingers as I stroked her hair and tucked it behind her ears. Lead fell into my veins. It dropped into my stomach and into my lungs. Breathing was nearly impossible.

            “Please let me take you to the doctor.” I swallowed hard, focusing on her fever-bright eyes. “Please.”

 

_Mera, Evening, 9:20 PM_

            I ached all over. From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Breathing was painful. Moving was agony. Even thinking shot discomfort through my nerves. My body was at once on fire and bathed in ice.

            “No,” I replied again. “It’s fine, Dean. I promise.”

            His eyes were glassy, like he was going to cry. I wanted to reach for him, to promise that everything would be okay, that all I needed was some rest. But the blankets were so comfortable, I was finally warm, and I didn’t feel like risking the flare of pain to move toward him.

            “What can I do?” he murmured, fingers smoothing through my sweat-matted hair. His voice cracked, then broke. “I’m helpless here, and it’s killing me, darlin’.”

            I forced myself to smile, to push past the ache in my neck to nuzzle into his touch. “There’s nothing you _can_ do, my love. Or the doctors.” My chest screamed with agony as I sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve been lucky for a long time, but I guess I ran out.”

            His fingers stopped their gentle stroking. Fear—real terror—flashed in his blue eyes, turning them dark as tornado thunderclouds. A tremble ran through his limbs, I felt it in his fingertips against my ear.

            “Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

_Dean, Evening, 9:37 PM_

            Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about the first time I’d seen Mera. I remembered it as clearly as if I was playing a film of it in my head. She’d walked in to FCW right on Seth’s heels—of course, he’d been known as Tyler Black then—with those gorgeous molten gold eyes and a smile that knocked the breath out of me. Her hair had been short then, but it framed her face in a way that made it impossible to look away. She laughed, and I was drunk on it. She shook my hand and said my name, and I felt my heart beat for the first time.

            And now, after all this time, she was mine. Mine to cherish, to adore, to worship, to protect.

            But I couldn’t protect her from this. Not when her own body was tearing itself apart.

            “Lupus?” I said the word like I’d never heard it before. Something about it made me want to cringe, as if just saying it out loud made everything about it a reality. I knew what it was, but I didn’t _know_ what it was.

            “Is it…” I stopped, couldn’t finish that sentence the way that it had framed itself in my head. I refused to think any more down that route. Instead, I tucked her more tightly in the blankets and tried to stuff down my fear. “Is it always this bad?”

            She stretched her legs out slowly, biting down hard on her lip to keep from letting me know how much it hurt. I wanted to take every ounce of her pain away. Jesus Christ, I’d suffer a million beatings, each more violent and agonizing than the last, if only it meant that she would never have to hurt again. I’d die to take her pain away, if only it didn’t take me away from her.

            “Not for a long time,” she replied softly. I watched the energy drain from her body. “Not for a… long time”

            Mera’s eyes fluttered closed, head lolling against the cushions at the back of the sofa. She let out a faint whimper as her limbs settled into place. Her chest rose and fell with her deep, slumbering breaths.

            I couldn’t imagine how much such a simple thing, something so vital, could give her so much agony. At least she slept, spared from the conscious feeling of her pain for at least a little while.

            For a moment, I thought about gathering her in my arms and taking her up to bed. But she looked peaceful for the first time all day, and I couldn’t bring myself to cause her any more discomfort. Instead, I pushed the coffee table out of the way and took a quick run upstairs. There would be no sleeping in the bed without Mera. There was no being so far away from her in case she needed me.

            I made up a nest of pillows and sheets on the floor just beside the sofa. My back would be killing me in the morning, but that didn’t matter. Mera mattered.

            She was all that mattered.

 

_Mera, Morning, 7:09 AM_

            My limbs were stiff as I tried to sit up. I was so hot that I can feel the sweat slicking along my skin. It was uncomfortable and sticky and all I wanted was to take a shower, to be clean, to be able to move without aching and feeling my skin crusted with salty sweat.

            I sat up, faint echoes of pain popping in my joints. The flare had been horrible. It had been years since my body had turned on itself in such a violent way. Nothing could ever hurt as much as when it felt like I was being torn open from the inside out. My muscles were still weak, my head still throbbed faintly, but it seemed that the worst had passed.

            It took me a few minutes to realize that I wasn’t in our bed. And Dean was nowhere to be seen.

            After giving myself a moment to let my body catch up, I sat up, swinging my feet off the edge of the sofa. My toe bumped against something as my feet hit the floor. When I looked down, I nearly burst into tears.

            Dean was stretched out on a makeshift pallet of sheets and spare pillows. He had swaddled himself until the only things visible were his feet and his mussed chestnut hair. I sighed softly, wiping tears from my cheeks. I could hardly comprehend it—he’d slept the entire night in the floor.

            For me.

            The ruffled hair moved. A face appeared out from the top of the sheets. Dean’s blue eyes blinked open, sleep matting his lashes together. When he saw me sitting on the edge of the sofa, his mouth curved up in a smile.

            “Morning, darlin’,” he mumbled gruffly. His hand appeared, scrubbing over his face, attempted to tame his hair. “How you feeling?”

            I sighed softly, taking stock of my body… sensing for aches and pains, discomfort and fear. There was a faint uncomfortable stretch in my legs, a lingering ache in my elbows. Very little of the horrible sensation from last night was still there. It was near heavenly compared to the hell that was a flare up.

            “I’m functioning so far,” I replied, reaching out to soothe some of the hair from his face. He leaned into my palm with a faint purr. “It’s going to be a few days before I’m back to my old self.”

            Dean sat up, cursing as he extricated himself from his cocoon. He looked so adorable first thing in the morning, especially when he got caught up in the sheets. “Then you’re taking it easy until you are.”

_Dean, Morning, 7:20 AM_

            My back throbbed as I unfolded myself from the floor and sat next to Mera on the sofa. Her face had faded closer to her normal complexion. Her eyes weren’t glassy with fever, sweat didn’t coat her hair until it stuck to her skin. She looked a thousand times better than she had the night before.

            A realization struck me in the gut harder than anything I’d ever known. In those moments when she was in pain, when she could barely breathe without wanting to cry, when there was nothing I could do to take it away… I was terrified that she might slip straight through my fingers. I missed the way she smiled at me like no one else mattered. I missed how she said my name in a way that made her eyes light up.

            I missed her, the woman who had taken a half-drunken trip around Las Vegas with me, who had married me in a roadside chapel without a second thought. And I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if she had been taken away from me. If I lost her…

            She was mine. Mera was everything to me—my heart, my soul, my lungs, the ground beneath my feet, the sky above me, and the air in my body.

            “Let me take care of you,” I whispered against her shoulder. I barely touched her, just the slip of my fingertips along her skin. “Tell me how I can help.”

            Her head turned toward me, those amber eyes wide and trusting. My soul ignited somewhere deep within me when she looked at me like that.

            “A hot bath would be a good place to start,” she said with an innocent smile that hooked into me, a cable dragging me toward her in space, a sure reminder that I was always hers.


	24. Chapter 23: Let's Go All the Way Tonight

Chapter 23: Let’s Go All the Way Tonight

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_Mera, Early Morning, 2:21 AM_

            It had been nearly a week since the flare up that landed me on the sofa for a good twenty-four hours. I was still tired in a way that never seemed to go away, but it was far better than what it had been. Flying out from Vegas to Illinois and then driving down to Iowa afterwards weren’t much help either.

            The sky was an inky blue-black overhead, dotted with bright stars as we took I-88 west from Chicago to Davenport. It was a three-hour drive straight through after a live event on a Sunday night. Raw had been promoting for the last week that it would be “ _live from Davenport, Iowa, home of Seth Rollins_ ” and I was already dreading it. Being back anywhere near Buffalo—which was our _real_ hometown—was more than I really wanted to deal with.

            Too many memories.

            Dean rested his palm gently against my thigh as he drove. Music filtered softly from the speakers, broken up every now and then with static and overlapping frequencies. Headlights and highway lamps cast yellow-filtered illumination as we rolled further west toward my past.

            “Hey,” he implored gently. “Are you okay?”

            I let out a faint sigh and leaned against the window. It was smooth and cool beneath my cheek as I tried to shift the thoughts in my mind. “I don’t know. I haven’t been back here in years. Not since Colby and I split.”

            There was a hum of understanding from my left. I picked at my cuticles. “Did you know that his mom called me after he had his ACL surgery? She couldn’t understand why I hadn’t come back to Buffalo with him to help him with rehab. He hadn’t told her we’d split up—and by then we’d been through for six months or so.”

            “She try to guilt trip you into helping?”

            I was able to laugh for the first time in what felt like years. “Hell no. The second I told her what he’d done, she was ready to split his head open. And I’m pretty sure Brandon wanted to murder him, too.”

            Dean shrugged, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, at least she knows what he is.”

            I sighed, a little bigger, a little deeper, a little sadder. “He wasn’t always an asshole, Dean. He was great until he really started getting traction with FCW and NXT. Once he won that title in NXT… I think that’s when he stopped being Colby and just turned straight into Seth Freaking Rollins.”

            Dean’s fingers squeezed my thigh gently, as if he was trying to make up for everything that happened. None of it was his fault, and it wasn’t as if he could have logically stopped any of it from happening, but it was strangely soothing that he wanted to take the sorrow of those years away from me. Even if they had brought me to him in the end.

 

_Dean, Early Morning, 3:18 AM_

            Mera was asleep, curled sideways into her seat, head pillowed on the headrest. She had her coat tucked up around her as a blanket, even though she swore multiple times that she wasn’t cold. I would have gladly died in sweltering heat on the drive if that had kept her comfortable.

            I pulled around to the front of the hotel. She stirred just a little as I shut off the engine and popped my seat belt. Then, she gave that little huff that she does when she’s settling against the pillows before going still once more. With a faint smile, I slipped out of the car, shut the door quietly, and engaged the locks so that she’d be safe while I went inside to check in.

            A few of the others were in the lobby picking up keys from the front desk and heading toward the elevators. I waved at Mike and Maryse and exchanged a quick hug with Roman before I was able to get to the desk to check in. The poor night clerk looked exhausted having all of us rolling in at once.

            Once I had our keys, I went back to retrieve our bags from the trunk. Roman appeared at the door, asking if I needed any help. For a moment, I considered sending him back inside with a _nah, I’ve got it, brother_ , but I changed my mind when I saw how deeply asleep Mera was. The thought of bothering her… even if it was just to get her up two floors on an elevator… I couldn’t force myself to do it.

            I popped open the trunk of the SUV, directing Roman to grab the bags while I maneuvered Mera out of the car without waking her. She sniffed and snuggled against my chest, but didn’t wake. Following in Roman’s wake, we were able to get her into as far as the elevator before she started to stir.

            “Mmph,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against my shoulder. Her hair tickled my neck. The scent of her—black cherry and pink cherry blossom—it washed over me, settled into my clothes and my skin and my soul until I knew that it would be with me until the day that I died. Long after these moments were gone and had faded into the sepia tones of memory, the scent that was thoroughly and perfectly Mera Reynolds would be as clear to me as it was just then.

            “We’re almost to the room,” I whispered, curling my arms tighter around her. From the corner of my eye, I saw Roman looking over at us with a smile. He gave me a nod of solidarity—to what, I couldn’t figure out. But I didn’t have the thoughts to ask. Not when all I wanted was to get Mera somewhere to rest.

            The elevator opened on our floor, and Roman led the way with the bags. He held the door open as I carried Mera inside, then dropped the luggage near the end of the bed. With muffled thanks, I watched the door close behind him. Once we were alone, I settled Mera against the pillows on the bed.

            “Let’s get you dressed for bed,” I said, tucking a chunk of her hair behind her ear.

            Mera opened her amber eyes and looked up at me in a way that made my heart thud against my ribs. She reached up, her fingertips brushing the inside of my wrist. Heat rushed into my blood, singing through my veins until I felt dizzy. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, drawing my attention.

            It was late. There were memories of a past she had been running away from for years just outside our hotel door. I knew she had to be exhausted all the way into her bones. But still…

            “Mera?”

            She smiled and stretched, her back arching, toes curling into the covers. I watched her, aware of the sliver of skin visible as her shirt slipped up her abdomen. Every molecule of my body sang to the tune of her lines and curves and shades and shadows. I could find her in the middle of a crowd just by that alone.

            “Come to bed, Dean,” she whispered, holding out her hand, wiggling her fingers at me.

            My head started to spin as I toed off my shoes and crawled up onto the bed beside her.

 

_Mera, Early Morning, 3:30 AM_

            Dean stretched out beside me; his head propped up on his hand. His cornflower blue eyes darkened as they watched me. There was a deep longing in them, something I couldn’t quite explain. He looked both sad and content at once. My palm settled against the side of his neck, thumb stroking softly along the line of his jaw.

            The only sound was our breathing and the soft scratch of the stubble against he pad of my thumb.

            A faint smile made his face turn soft, made it lose the hard lines and angles. He leaned into my touch and gave off a soft hum deep in his throat.

            “Hey,” he said suddenly, his voice cracking just a little.

            I felt a smile appear as I watched him. “Hey,” I replied.

            In an instant, he curled me into his arms, drawing me tight against his chest. The smell of his cologne made me dizzy in the best of ways. It was a deep scent, one that triggered a sensation in the back of my brain—a sensation, an instinct that was as intimately a part of me as my own soul. One that told me I was his in every way imaginable.

            Dean kissed me hesitantly. His lips hovered against mine, never quite making full contact. The tip of his nose brushed my cheek, sending shivers down my spine.

            He stroked his fingers along my back, inching ever closer to the hem. A heavy haze of electricity followed in the wake of his touch. It sparked along my nerves as his hand slipped beneath my shirt and swept along the skin of my hip. I sighed into him as he dragged me closer, crushing me against him, fingertips digging into my flesh.

            “Don’t ever leave me. Please?” he mumbled against my throat. His lips trailed a path from my jaw down to my collarbone.

            I arched against him, fingers threading through his copper and chestnut hair. “Never.” The word came out breathier than I expected, yet it was a promise—a sworn vow that I would die to keep.

_Dean, Early Morning, 3:41 AM_

            Holding my wife against me, feeling her heart beating alongside mine, it was a joy that burned in my limbs and coursed through my blood until I could feel nothing else. It was a feeling better than any drunken buzz I’d ever had. She was there, she was in my arms, she was beautiful and perfect and flawed and here and mine.

            I loved her in a way that I could never explain. I _needed_ her in a way that I could never explain. It ached within me. It consumed me entirely, like a conflagration that exploded into a supernova in the sky.

            When she sighed against my chest, a faint sheen of sweat along her skin, my name on her lips, I knew that nothing in the universe could be better than this moment.


	25. Chapter 24: Teenage Dream

Chapter 24: Teenage Dreams

( _GIF owned by wweconfidential on Tumblr)_

_Mera, Evening, 8:45 PM_

            I had been to catering six times by the time the show was half over. Nerves of being so close to my past had pushed me to the sugar in a horrible way. A stack of plastic plates sat on the counter against the wall, dusted with crumbs from cookies, brownies, and the remnants of mashed potatoes and chicken. I’d filled up my drink twice as often, most of the time with soda or lemonade.

            If I made it out of this night without gaining fifteen pounds, I’d be lucky.

            A few superstars came through the trainer’s door, mostly for some stretching and Kinesiotape. Around the start of the second hour, Mustafa Ali was brought back for some pain in his knee. He was stretched out on my table, leg propped up on rolled towels, ice strapped against the inside of his knee. After a little rest and ice, I planned on checking it out again before deciding whether he needed to see a local orthopedic.

            “You okay, Mera?” Ali asked as I adjusted the towels to elevate his knee a little higher.

            “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I gave him a faint smile, trying not to jostle him too much.

            “I know we don’t know each other that well,” he continued, tucking a hand behind his head. “But you’ve seemed off every time I’ve seen you today.”

            “I’m that transparent, huh?”

            He shrugged, smiled genuinely. “I’m just good at reading people.”

            I nodded, glancing back over my shoulder. The door was closed, a rule around here for medical privacy. With a sigh, I just started blurting things out. “I grew up around here… just a few miles away in a town called Buffalo. Seth and I have known each other since we were kids.”

            Suddenly, I felt a churning gut-punch of shame. “The only reason I’m here… that I’m a trainer at all… is because of Seth. He went on the indie circuit, and I studied on the road as we traveled. We were together for a while until…” A deep sigh. “Well, you know what happened. The whole world knows some of it, but there was so much more. So many more. We broke up and I haven’t been back here since.”

            Ali listened intently. A look of sympathy crossed his face. “It can’t be easy being back here. Or working with him every day.”

            I shrugged. “It is a good job. And I get to travel. As long as he doesn’t get hurt, I don’t have to deal with him.”

            The room descended into silence. I picked up the laptop that kept the superstar’s medical records and entered in some notes about Ali’s injury. I’d given him a couple over the counter pain relievers, and he’d been in a grueling match. By the time I turned around, he was passed out on the trainer’s table.

 

_Dean, Evening, 8:52 PM_

            There was too much going on. The script had been rewritten an hour before the show went on air and it had taken too fucking long to get my stuff straightened out. I was stressed out about the match they’d planned and a promo that made absolutely no sense. Even worse, I was being thrown in with Seth tonight in the main event for the tag titles because it was his hometown. His family had been visiting backstage and they were going to be ringside for the match.

            The worst part, though, was that I hadn’t been able to see Mera since we got to the arena. She’d gone straight into the trainer’s room and gotten bombarded with a series of guys and girls who needed to get worked out before they could get in the ring. I’d heard through the grapevine that she’d been in catering a few times—I worried even more having seen her over the years turn to food when she started to get intensely stressed.

            Desperation settled in. I needed to see her, to wrap her in my arms and hold her tight, to tell her that I loved her, that my world revolved around her. There was a deep, all-consuming, overwhelming desire to see her, to touch her, to breathe in the scent of her. It was as if I hadn’t seen her for weeks—not hours.

            The trainer’s door was shut—someone else had gotten to her first. I ached in a way that I never had before. My guts twisted. My heart turned to stone and fell into my shoes.

            God, I missed her. It felt like I was missing a fucking limb.

            When the door opened and Mera slipped into the hallway, it was as if I’d been struck by lightning. Every single inch of my body lit up with recognition—that beast in my chest snarled and struggled at the end of some invisible chain. There was no containing it.

            I nearly jumped across the space between us. She yelped when I snatched her up into my arms, lifting her straight off her feet. I buried my face into the curve of her neck, nuzzled into the scent that was perfectly home. That was all it took—the world slowed, the noise faded into nothingness. It was just Mera and me, her safe against my chest, setting me as a shield against the rest of the world.

            “Dean? What’s wrong?” she whispered, her fingertips soothing against the back of my neck.

            “Missed you,” I mumbled in return.

 

_Seth, Evening, 9:00 PM_

            It was strange to sleep in my own bed the night before Raw. Being home was nice since I got to check in on Black and Brave and see my buddies. My mom and step-dad had been backstage with me until they were taken out to the arena to their seats. They’d be ringside for the Tag Title match Dean and I had later.

            My mom had asked about Mera. The way she’d done it made me think she knew about her and Dean. I didn’t know how she could have found out, and I didn’t like how she’d asked me about it as if it bothered me.

            Why would it bother me? It wasn’t like I had an opinion. I never thought about it anymore.

            It wasn’t like being back home made me think about building igloos out of ice in the winter or riding bikes by the railroad tracks. It didn’t remind me of putting on shows in my mom’s front yard with Mera behind the camera and figuring out first aid when I’d gotten banged up. I didn’t really care about how there was a picture of Mera and me at our junior prom still hanging in my mom’s house. Or that the walls in the living room of my house were still painted her favorite color.

            We’d broken up years ago. Why would it matter to me?

 

_Mera, Evening, 9:03 PM_

            Dean and I sat on a pair of road crates just outside the trainer’s room. Ali was still resting, ice on his knee. He was awake, but the time off his leg would be good for him. As long as I didn’t go too far, he would be fine.

            He leaned back so that his shoulders were against the wall, hands dangling between his knees. He watched at me with those cornflower eyes of his, a small smile on his face. It was the look he’d had that first morning in the hotel in Vegas—the one that made him look so young and soft around the edges.

            I felt myself go warm under his gaze, remembering the first time that he ever looked at me. It was when Seth and I first showed up at FCW. Dean was one of the first people we met. He’d been young and scruffy, just off his time in the indies. I remembered how he’d walked in like he was going to have to fight everyone in the room. He’d been all ripped jeans, white tees, and canvas jackets.

            There’d always been something adorable about Dean Ambrose, even when he was beat up, banged up, bloodied, and bruised. He had a light in his blue eyes and a smile on his face that had made my heart melt. Maybe, deep down, I’d fallen for him all the way back then.

            “Do you remember the night when they put us on that crappy van to go from Tampa to some backwoods place for a house show and the van broke down?”

            He laughed, brightness washing over his features. I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself in the sound. “Yeah,” he said with a deep sort of husk in his voice. “It was supposed to be just some two-hour drive to a bullshit gym show. None of us had anything—except you. You had that backpack and that little…” He waved his fingers in the general direction of his forehead.

            “It was a reading light, thank you.”

            He grinned wider. “Yeah, that fucking thing. The rest of us were useless while you were up with the driver holding that damn light so he could fix it to get us home.”

            “I remember you trying to act like you knew what the fuck was going on.”

            Dean reached out and wrapped my fingers in his. His face suddenly went serious. “You’re magnetic, you know that, Mera? There’s just this… sense about you that I couldn’t ever ignore. Even when you weren’t mine to want, I just liked being near you.” A small smile turned the corner of his mouth. “And maybe I was trying to impress you.”

 

_Seth, Evening, 9:08 PM_

            I turned the corner into the hallway where the trainer’s rooms were set up. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to see Dean and Mera sitting together just outside the door. They were holding hands and talking. I hated how it made me _feel_ something when I saw them together.

            It reminded me of sitting on the steps in my basement bedroom, looking at the low-quality videos of the shows I used to put on in the front yard. Mera was always the one who ran the video camera. She was amazing at it. I remembered her, covered in splotches of paint as we decorated the cinderblock walls of my bedroom.

            I ignored the turn in my stomach, the memories that came unbidden when I saw her with someone else.

            We’d broken up ages ago. It shouldn’t bother me.

            But it did.


	26. Chapter 26: The Way You Look at Me

Chapter 25: The Way You Look at Me

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_Dean, 10:15 PM, Evening_

            “How about, after all of this is over tonight, we go back to the hotel, take a hot shower together, and eat junk food?” I said soothingly, sliding my fingers along the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse beat wildly, a strange sort of music that made my blood sing.

            Mera glanced up at me with those amber eyes of hers, the ones that could drag me down into an unfathomable abyss. One that I never wanted to leave. It was the glance that drew me in the first moment we met, they shade and hue that kept me in thrall in a way that I could never understand. She reached up and tugged on the end of her ponytail.

            “That sounds really nice,” she replied, leaning her head against my shoulder. Her fingers settled into place with mine, holding my hand tightly. “If you promise that we can leave first thing in the morning. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.”

            I had known, ever since we drove into Davenport the night before, that she was nearly destroyed with anxiety by being anywhere nearby. She was terrified by the thought of running in to Seth’s family or any of their old friends. I could feel it, her sheer and absolute horror—it blurred in my veins, changed the way the air cycled through my lungs. It was an ache in my bones, an ache that I knew had to be a thousand times worse within her.

            “Then let’s drop off the rental car and just fly home. Nobody needs us until Friday anyway.”

            She glanced up, tears glittering on her lashes like diamonds. That beast in my chest reared up, roaring in desperation to protect her, to stop the pain and hurt that had somehow gotten past me to her. I brushed my thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears gathered there. My heart thudded angrily, sadly, desperately. All I wanted was to take her away from everything that hurt her. If I could, I would carry her away to a place for just the two of us… where we could be together in peace without her past chasing her like ghosts.

            “Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you surprise me, Dean Ambrose,” she murmured, a half smile on her face.

            It was enough to lift my soul. To bring it into a place of something like peace and joy.

_Mera, 10:20 PM, Evening_

            Just looking at his cornflower eyes made me feel as if the world could find itself right again. He had this way about him, this sense that permeated everything around him until there was nothing left but peace. It was one of the many things I loved about him. No matter what happened, I could find the center of the world in the circle of his arms.

            “What do you mean by that, Mera?” he said, his lips curling up in a smile that still made my heart want to burst.

            I looked up at him, wondering if the day would come when the sight of him didn’t take my breath away. “You are the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful man I’ve ever met. And I’m so lucky to be your wife.”

            Those blue eyes blurred as he blinked rapidly, trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up. “I’ve been lucky since the day I met you.”

            Leaning up, I pressed a kiss against his lips. “I love you, Dean.”

 

_Seth, 10:22 PM, Evening_

            I was just standing in the hallway. Not moving, not talking, hardly breathing. Mera and Dean were right here, sitting on those road crates talking and touching. All I could think about was how they sat close together, her head on his shoulder, a smile on her face that I hadn’t seen in years.

            Something inside me… something deep in my chest… it pulled, tugged, ripped so painfully it sucked the air out of my lungs. I stumbled back into the wall, a physical ache running through my entire body.

            A lifetime flashed in my mind. The seconds and moments and hours, days, months, years… decades. The first time I saw Mera Reynolds—golden hair in braids with a Ninja Turtles lunch box standing by the cubbies in the back of our kindergarten classroom. Middle school—ponytails and a boyband t-shirt, magazine cutouts in her locker beneath a picture of us in the snow. Somewhere around ninth grade, looking over from my trampoline-turned-ring and seeing her sitting on the steps of my mom’s house with the camera in her hand. Junior year—Mera coming down the stairs at her parents’ house in a dark blue dress that made her hair look like burnished bronze. Senior year, signing day, when she turned down everything at her dream school to take an AT track and travel with me.

            That first night on the road, getting lost trying to find the next town. She had her feet up on the dash of my beat-up second-hand car, music crackling through the speakers as she sang along. The motel on the side of the highway, splitting a meal from McDonald’s since that’s all we could afford.

            The way she used to fuss when I got hurt. How she’d sift through her textbooks to find what needed to be done. Calling her teachers if she couldn’t find it. The times we couldn’t avoid it and ended up at the emergency room.

            Every moment of our lives together raced through my brain. One after the other, marching toward the inevitable, inescapable finish. Faces blurred together, all sharing one defining characteristic—they weren’t Mera Reynolds.

            I felt my bones breaking in my chest. My stomach turned.

            I barely made it to the bathroom before I puked.

 

_Mera, 10:30 PM, Evening_

            “Good luck tonight,” I murmured as Dean enfolded me in a warm hug. The scent of him wrapped around me, reminding me that I was finally in my only real home. No city, no family, could make me feel as calm and as happy as being with Dean.

            “Honestly,” Dean replied, burying his nose in my hair. “I’m ready to drop these titles. I’m ready to do my own thing.”

            I slipped my arms around his middle. “Whatever happens, whatever you do, I’m here. I’m behind you for every second of it.”

            Dean’s lips settled on my temple. “I’m counting on it, darlin’. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

            With a final squeeze, I looked up at him and smiled widely. “Go on. Do what you do. I know it will be great.”

 

_Dean, 10:38 PM, Evening_

            I stood in gorilla, my thoughts still in the back with Mera. As calm as she had been when we’d parted, I knew that she was ready to get this town in the rearview. It didn’t matter to me. But knowing that she was unhappy was enough to make gasoline burn in my veins. I’d go to the ends of the earth to make her happy.

            Seth appeared next to me, his face looking grey. As much as I knew what he’d done, I couldn’t deny the fact that he had been one of my closest friends for a long time. “You good, man? You look a little green.”

            I watched him swallow hard. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. The muscles of his jaw bunched tight. “Are you gonna vomit?”

            He looked over at me, something off about the way his eyes focused. “Already did.”

            “Shit, man. Are you okay to go through with this?”

            “No choice,” he replied heavily. “I’m not backing out on my hometown.”

            Seth sounded strange, something haunted in his tone. I reached over, put my hand on his shoulder. I felt him flinch.

 

_Mera, 10:40 PM, Evening_

            I slipped around to the monitors so I could watch the match. Everyone who needed me had already been taken care of and long since left the arena. I had the time to myself as I waited for Dean’s match to be over. Watching it would make the time go by faster.

            “Hello, Mera,” came a voice from just over my left shoulder. I turned around to see a woman whose face I hadn’t seen in years. Holly Franklin—Seth’s mom—stood there in a dark sweater and jeans. She stepped up close to me, like she wanted to hug me.

            I tried to smile, but knew it wasn’t as genuine as she deserved. “Hello, Holly,” I replied, feeling the formality in my mouth.

            She looked down at her feet, smiled her soft mother smile. It made me feel guilty for feeling off around her.

            “I miss talking to you, girlie,” she said faintly. A heavy sigh settled between us. “You were like my daughter for so long, Mera. I swear I could beat that boy for doing what he did.”

            I tried so hard not to think about it. To not let everything that Seth had done to me creep in at the edges of my senses. If it did, I would fall apart. I would sink beneath the edges of the past in a way that I couldn’t escape.

            As if she could sense the rise in my pulse, the terror that seemed to burn in my veins, Holly stepped away. “I know my son isn’t always a good man. I know that he hurt you in a way that can never be forgotten. And, honey, know that I don’t expect you to patch anything up with him. He made this bed and he’s going to wallow in it. But I’ve watched you grow up. You were like one of my own. If you ever need anything, don’t you hesitate to pick up that phone and call me, do you understand?”

            Something soothing wriggled in beneath the anxiety. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up. “Yes, ma’am.”

            Holly nodded as if all of it was settled. “And congratulations, sweetheart. Dean’s a good man. He’ll be a better one to you than my boy was. And I’m glad for that.”


End file.
